A Model Escort
by Crimson1
Summary: Len is an escort and Barry needs someone to hold him - no powers AU.
1. Chapter 1

Everything had a pattern. The trick to understanding the data was in the models. The algorithms. The points along a timeline that indicated the probability of what should come next.

Barry's whole world revolved around patterns, but some things couldn't be predicted. Whenever that happened, he thought back to something his mother once told him.

"Meet every surprise in life like you had a plan all along."

Barry did not have a plan.

Looking around his apartment, he realized he also didn't have furniture. He remembered the moving without furniture part of coming to a new city, he'd just forgotten how annoying living without it would be until he went out and bought something. All he had right now were boxes filled with clothing, electronics, kitchenware, and keepsakes.

He sat on one of the larger boxes amidst the clutter, facing the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that led out to his balcony. The view beyond was humbling, a dozen stories up to look upon the glittering lights of the city, nestled right in the heart of it. Barry had always loved cityscapes more than trees. He'd dreamed of having an apartment like this someday. He'd just hoped he'd be sharing it.

He never was good at starting over. He had to be out of his mind to pick up and move three-hundred miles from home just to escape his ex.

Not that Harrison was the only reason Barry had chosen Star City. The mayor himself had offered Barry a consultation position while his new predictive models were put into use at the police department. One of the stipulations Barry had on any private or government organization using his patents was his personal involvement in implementation. Mayor Queen had agreed and brought Barry in to work part-time at the mayor's office while things got up and running. The move to Star City also opened doors for him at Palmer Tech and Smoak Industries to sell his models for industrial use. He'd never want for anything again with the opportunities and money headed his way.

For now, the SCPD would be using the intricate algorithms he'd created to predict where criminal activity was most likely to occur, allowing them to position their officers more efficiently and maximize coverage on the streets. Barry's models would save the city millions by better utilizing their current resources, and maybe even help save a few lives. It was everything he'd ever wanted, and if things went well here, his models could help even more people all over the country.

He should have been happy. He should have been ecstatic. But a shadow hung over him because of how things had ended with Harrison back in Central.

Habit caused Barry to wrap his fingers around his forearm. The bruises were gone now, no lasting damage, nothing broken, but sometimes it was like phantom pain when he thought about his ex. The older man he'd dated for years, who he'd lived with for years, who he'd believed would be the last person he ever came home to, had never physically harmed him until that night. Harrison's abuses had been different, deeper, if not as visible as the bruises once were.

The sound of Barry's ringtone startled him out of his musing, sitting alone in the dark of his mostly empty apartment. He scrambled to remember where he'd put his phone before he realized it was in his pocket.

"Hello?" he answered stiffly.

"Uh oh. Don't tell me the moving company lost something? You sound about two seconds from having a pint of Haagen Daz for dinner again."

Iris. Barry's sister had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly when he needed to hear her voice, ever since he was adopted into her family when he was ten years old.

Despite himself, he smiled. "I resent that stereotype."

"I would too if I hadn't caught you doing it multiple times when you lived with me."

They shared a chuckle, though the memory of how true that was turned Barry's expression sour before long.

The night he left Harrison for good, he could have gone to his adopted father, but Joe had never approved of the relationship.

"He's twice your age, Barry," was the common complaint.

He wasn't _twice_ Barry's age, though fairly close, since Barry had been twenty-one when they met and Harrison thirty-eight. That was four years ago, putting his 'boyfriend' in his forties now, which shouldn't have mattered, but Joe never let it go. Now he could finally say 'I told you so'.

At least he'd never actually said it. Still, Barry hadn't wanted to deal with Joe's judgment, so he'd gone to Iris instead. Her husband Eddie was one of Barry's closest friends, they understood, but it was still awkward being a third wheel in their house for months before the call to Star City came.

Barry needed a change, he just hoped he hadn't made a terrible mistake all because a bad breakup made it too difficult to stay in his home town.

"I'll get something substantial once I gather enough will to leave this box," he said, patting the side of it so Iris could hear the thumps over the phone. "Like Thai food or pizza."

"Barry…"

"Hey, I don't have any dishes unpacked yet. Or food in the fridge. Or furniture, for that matter."

"I told you not to let Harry have everything in the divorce."

"It wasn't a divorce," Barry scowled. All his friends referred to it like that, which only made the loss feel worse, because he'd always wanted to get married someday. He still did, he just hated the idea of starting from square one. "And I didn't want his things."

"Some of it was your things."

"None of it was mine, Iris. He chose everything in that apartment. It was always his, never mine, never _ours_. And I'm not completely devoid of amenities. I have a bed."

"You have a mattress," she said, just as Barry looked to his left through the bedroom door to see it resting on the floor like some minimalist mockery. " _My_ mattress that Eddie and I gave you so you wouldn't be sleeping on the floor tonight. You still need a bedframe, dresser, table—"

"I can't think about that right now, I'm meeting the mayor tomorrow and all my new contacts. I probably won't even sleep. I'll worry about furniture after work tomorrow."

"How about you worry about it tonight?"

"Iris…"

"Relax, Barr. Check out the large kitchen box I helped pack."

Perking up from where he sat, Barry scanned the apartment until he spotted the larger of his boxes labelled 'KITCHEN' near the entryway. "What did you do?" he asked with suspicion as he headed toward it, expecting balloons or confetti to explode out the top in some lame attempt to make him smile, which honestly might have worked, but Iris was using her serious, practical tone. She couldn't be hiding an entire apartment full of furniture in that box.

Only somehow she was—a catalog full.

When Barry opened the box, on the very top was a catalog for an express delivery furniture place that included rentals. Even from the cover, he could tell that the furniture was more his style than anything Harrison had ever allowed. Barry liked color and character and light; Harrison had been too rigid for that.

"This stuff looks…"

"Amazing?" Iris said.

"Expensive."

"Oh, Barr, considering how much they're paying you, nothing is out of your price range right now. Indulge a little. Plus, this way you can relax and choose some things you like tonight, make the order online, and have everything delivered tomorrow while you're at work. If you fall in love with something, you can buy it. If you hate a piece once you see it, you can return it and get something new. I dog-eared pages of things I thought you might like."

Barry was already flipping through the book and came upon a dog-eared page as she said that. There was a small oak-colored kitchen table with four chairs, each a different color—red, blue, yellow, and black. Harrison would have hated the asymmetry, which meant Barry immediately wanted it.

"You are the best, Iris."

"I know. Eddie and I miss you already. Dad's holding up okay, but still grumbling about you moving _thousands_ of miles away—his words, no matter how many times I tell him it's a simple day trip in the car or a quick flight."

"I hope he's not too mad. Four years of Harry keeping me secluded, barely spending time with you guys or any of my friends, now just when we started to reconnect, I moved away. Maybe this was a bad idea…" He looked around the apartment again, feeling small and suffocated by so much space and so many miles between him and the closest people who loved him.

"Barry, Dad will get over it. This is important to you, something you've always wanted, the project you've been working on since you were a kid, the one thing Harry wasn't able to twist into one of his own patents."

"Because I kept it from him."

"You weren't the bad guy, Barry. If you'd shared those models with Harrison, he'd be the one getting cozy with Star City elite tomorrow, having every tech mogul vying for his attention. Instead, it's you, like you deserve. Like you've earned. Don't run scared yet. This will be so good for you. But if you start to go out of your mind and feel too homesick, I'll be on the first plane there, okay?"

Barry smiled as he dropped into a cross legged position on the floor to keep paging through the catalog. "Thanks, Iris. I can do this. It just doesn't feel like home yet with only boxes around me. I'll order some dinner and have fun picking out furniture. Once I have the place decked out, I'll send pictures, deal?"

"Deal."

"Hey," he frowned, reaching a page dog-eared like many others but that also had a business card stuck in the crease, "what's this?"

Iris had been the biggest asset in helping Barry move from finding the right apartment to hiring the moving company. She'd even made him lists of restaurants to check out, corner stores in his neighborhood for when he needed groceries, and random activities to try so he wouldn't sit at home doing nothing when he wasn't at work. She was a good sister and a loyal friend.

But finding this particular business card made Barry wonder if all of that was bullshit.

" _Iris_ ," he balked. "You got me a referral for an _escort service?_ "

"Now, Barry, here me out—"

"I don't need to _hire_ someone—"

"I'm not suggesting you do! I just thought it might be easier to have someone on standby for dinners and events if you weren't ready to date yet and didn't feel like answering questions about your love life. An escort could take the heat off, that's all."

Calming marginally at her logic, Barry tried not to get too worked up over the implications. The card was sleek black with silver writing, just the name, a website, and a phone number. "But isn't like…sex implied?" he whispered.

"Not legally."

"Iris!"

"Nothing is implied, Barr. Is it easier for people to look the other way if sexy times go down, yes"—he cringed at her word choice—"but that doesn't mean there's obligation on either side. Some people really do hire escorts just to _escort_ them. Not that I'd judge if you needed more than that—"

"The last thing I need right now is mindless sex," Barry cut her off. "That's all I was to Harry. His little trophy. Convenient and obedient. I'd rather have someone around who'd hold me. Oh god," he tipped back into a slow fall, stretching his legs out in front of him when he landed, "I sound like a failed greeting card."

"Barry," Iris said with a faint giggle that quickly returned to earnest understanding. "Everyone needs different things at different points in their lives, and no need is more or less valid than another. I wish I could be there to hug you, honey. I really only meant the referral as an option for social events, no bad joke or pressure involved. You can totally ignore it."

"Sorry, I'm not upset," Barry said, staring at his ceiling as he clutched his phone to his ear and the catalog to his chest. "It makes sense. I didn't even think about social events. I do not want to have any real dates right now, but having the option to skip the 'so are you seeing anyone?' conversation would be such a relief. Divulging that I just got out of a long-term relationship would probably make me someone's 'project' and they'd start setting me up with their neighbor's cousin's roommate and…urg, maybe I will call the agency."

Iris giggled again, but loving not mocking. "First dinner and furniture."

"Right," Barry snorted. "Dinner. Furniture. Disaster of a love life. That seems like the right order."

After another shared chuckle, Iris said, "It's going to be okay, Barry. You're moving on. You're heading a new direction all for you. You are so much more than Harrison Wells."

That's what Barry had been telling himself for months. He knew in his bones it was true; he'd proven how successful he could be all on his own. He just wished being on his own wasn't so lonely. "I know. Give my love to Eddie. I'll check in with you guys soon."

"You better. I love you."

"I love you too, Iris."

Lurching up into a sitting position again, Barry hung up the call and stuck the business card back in the catalog as he continued to page through it. He couldn't imagine actually calling some stranger to be his date for whatever gala or fancy event the mayor might drag him to, but the idea wasn't completely ridiculous. He'd barely dated anyone before being caught up in the whirlwind of Harrison Wells. He probably did need a professional at this point.

But no, he doubted he'd drum up enough courage to call an _escort_ , but he did like the agency's name and the implied speed in an emergency. If he ever got truly desperate, he had the option to call _Nick of Time Escort Service_ to save him.

* * *

"Nick of Time Escort Service?" Gideon the receptionist answered the phone as Len passed by her desk.

He hated coming into the office. While his name, photograph, and basic stats like height and age were all displayed in the agency's online catalog, places of business that relied on anonymity for their clients tended to not have office hours open to the public. Payroll, the receptionist, and any handlers had office hours. Len's hours rarely included _offices_ and were even more seldom during the day.

This morning, he had a bone to pick with the CEO.

"Mr. Snart, may I help you with something?" Rip Hunter barely glanced at the door when Len stormed into his office. Gideon used to try to dissuade him from barging in unannounced, but she'd learned to let forces of nature run their course.

"Merlin's on my schedule again," Len said as he planted himself in front of the Englishman. "I dropped him last week."

"And you are well within your rights to do so. However," Rip flicked his pale eyes up from his computer screen, "if you would like someone removed from your calendar, Mr. Snart, you need to go through the proper channels to dismiss the client and work that through scheduling and accounts. When you don't, the chain of command is interrupted and someone spends several wasted minutes on changes they might have avoided."

"Like _me_?"

"I was going to say Kendra in Accounts," Rip's insufferable deadpan irked Len like few things could, "but I realize your time is more precious than the rest of ours."

Crossing his arms over his perfectly tailored suit, Len stood his ground. His greatest selling point to clients was his precise nature—not to say his looks weren't an asset. "Don't bullshit me, Rip. I told Sara I was dropping him. Shouldn't the paperwork be her responsibility?"

"It is. You still need to sign it. And put something in the dismissal report other than you get a 'bad feeling' about him."

Len thought back to his latest encounter with _Merlin_ —a man of sizeable means and expensive tastes, recently forty, dripping with poise and sarcasm, much like Len himself—and grimaced. "It's a _feeling_. What more is there to explain? Have my instincts ever been wrong?"

The continued stare from Rip proved he hadn't forgotten the clients Len had demanded the agency dismiss, and not always because they were _his_ , who'd turned out to be unsavory for one reason or another or downright violent. "No, but rather than cut ties with Mr. Merlin outright, I would like to give other escorts the opportunity—"

"I wouldn't recommend that."

Rip sighed, but Len was not about to budge. Star City was large enough that they could afford to drop rich assholes like Merlin without losing any sleep. Len had never had any trouble with the guy. He treated him well, carried on a good conversation, followed the rules when things got intimate, but Len couldn't shake the feeling that something was funny about him.

"Get him off my schedule, and _off_ the roster."

"Of course, Mr. Snart," Rip conceded without further argument. "Comfort for my escorts first and foremost, always."

Rip meant it, Len had never doubted that, which was the primary reason he remained loyal to the agency and always would, even when the rest of the time the CEO was a prick. "Thank you." Turning briskly, Len made to take his leave.

"And do fill in your vacant spot with Mr. Merlin's absence within the next few weeks, if you would. We are getting a bit full up. Perhaps you'd consider taking on a new regular."

Len bristled as he reached the door and shot an icy expression over his shoulder. "I'll see what comes up."

 _Nick of Time_ allowed their escorts to vet and refuse anyone who chose them for a night—especially if a night turned into a regular occurrence. The client wouldn't be told they were refused, just that the escort was unavailable. Len had a full schedule of regulars these days and very rarely took on new clients. He was picky about who he spent his time with, especially if that involved joining someone's bed, and it always did where work was concerned. He didn't take clients only looking for arm candy; he knew where his strengths lied.

The healthcare for _Nick of Time_ was bar none as well, and clients had to go through an approval process with up-to-date medical records just like the escorts. After being accepted onto the roster, clients could have first pick of who they wanted for a night, though they were encouraged to choose second and third options since first-choice escorts were often popular and already booked. If an escort was fully stacked for their schedule, they were removed from the catalog entirely until they became available again, but the final decision always came down to whether the escort themselves were willing to accept who'd chosen them.

Still, there had been times when Len agreed to see a client, saw them for a night, but even though the man or woman desired his company in the future, he deemed them unfit to become a regular. He'd kept Merlin on his calendar for far too long.

Making a quick left out of Rip's office, Len headed for his handler—Sara Lance. In a pinch, she was more bodyguard than secretary, but that part of her resume wasn't on the books. Len had never had to call in her services in that regard, but a few escorts had, and the stories they told were part of why so many flowers and gifts stacked up on her desk come Christmas.

She had the corner office, almost larger than Rip's. The CEO preferred being up front in case of any commotion or proverbial fires to put out.

Len's mouth was already open in preparation to speak when he rounded the corner into Sara's open office doorway and was interrupted by a stack of papers being smacked into his chest like a punch. He coughed as he looked down at the well-manicured hand attached to them.

"Those would be the forms I neglected to sign?"

"What gave them away?" she said with mild scorn bleeding through her smile—a deadly smile, made all the deadlier with red lips, framed by a pretty face and blond hair. Sara would have made an excellent escort herself, not that many people would dare tell her that. "I'm assuming you already gave Rip an earful?"

"What can I say, I hate the bureaucratic side to the job," Len said, accepting the papers and following her toward the desk. "I prefer to be more…hands on."

Unmoved by the waggle of his eyebrow, Sara pushed a pen at him next, "Put your hands to work with this then, Leonard," and spun her computer to face her while she perched on the corner of her desk. "Need an updated schedule with Merlin removed?"

"Please." Len started to peruse his paperwork; it was a very thick stack in his opinion.

"Piper's back from vacation. Wondered if you could pencil him in tonight."

"Gladly." The client Len had dubbed Pied Piper because he played principal clarinet in the Star City Philharmonic tipped well and was easy to please with the right praises for his playing and condescending talk about the art his parents bought that he therefore despised.

Len loved art and music, and Piper, while young, was worthy of every praise Len had ever given him. But much of high society, which was the majority of Len's clients, revolved around trash masquerading as treasure, and that he couldn't stomach.

"Also, Miss Prince had to reschedule for Wednesday. With Merlin out, you're free that day, so I gave her a maybe."

"You can confirm. Have you seen Mick around—"

"Where's my damn bonus, Lance?" a booming voice preceded one of Len's dearest friends and fellow escorts, Mick Rory. He could slap on the charm on a dime and be whatever a client wanted, but he was surly and blunt when himself. Len found it refreshing.

"Your referral bonus will be in the next paycheck, Mick, I told you," Sara said with an unimpressed tilt of her head. "End of the month."

Mick grumbled. He stood a good inch taller than Len's six-foot-one height and was nearly twice as broad. His larger, muscled form attracted a narrower group of clients, but he was never without a full schedule. "I should get a bonus straight from Heywood for this one. You shoulda seen his face," he smirked at Len, "comin' back from his first night with this chick. I think the poor sap's in love."

"What'd he dub her?"

"Jane."

"Bit dull, isn't it?" Len said with a frown.

"Like _Tarzan_ and Jane. Apparently, she's got a thing for safaris, and you know how Heywood likes to travel."

" _Mick_ ," Sara interjected. "We aren't a matchmaking service. Stop setting up referrals with ulterior motives to knock out your competition."

"Who's got ulterior motives?" Mick shrugged innocence. Nate Heywood wasn't as large as Mick but he did fill a similar demographic, and several past escorts had quit after Mick passed them referrals. Mick swore it was coincidence, but sometimes Len wondered. "I just figured she'd like the guy, so I passed her his card at a party. That's what referrals are for. Whadda you got goin' on?" he returned his attention to Len.

"Piper and Prince this week."

"Merlin too?"

" _Out_ ," Len said with a final flourish of signing his name on the last page.

"'Bout time," Mick huffed.

"You've never even met the man," Sara said, taking back the signed forms along with her pen.

"Lenny's word's good enough for me."

Shaking her head at them, she set the papers in her outbox. "You know how Rip frowns on this shop talk."

"That's why we use codenames for clients, Miss Lance," Len said. "All in good fun. No identities lost."

"Why do you call him Merlin again?" Mick asked.

"Coz he's a magician, Mick. I can never figure out his secrets." With most of the day free ahead of him and his evening newly planned, Len decided to make the most of having stopped by the office and running into his friend. "Wanna grab breakfast?"

"You're on, pal. But til I get that bonus," he poked Len pointedly in the shoulder, "yer buyin'."

Len expected as much. Heading out of the office, he turned to say his farewells to Sara, but she was already in front of him again, pressing another paper to his chest—the schedule he hadn't noticed her print.

"Since you prefer 'hands on'," she said, even though she'd email and text it to him later as well. "But next time…paperwork first."

"Yes, ma'am," Len said with a bow of his head. "You know, you don't rag on Mick about these things."

Sara's blue eyes always had a sparkle of danger in them, especially when she was in the right. "Don't let the loud bark fool you, Leonard. Mick's the most reliable one of the whole bunch."

"But I'm still the most popular," Len winked and prided himself on the smile he wheedled out of her before he followed after his friend.

* * *

Barry had clearly made a terrible mistake.

He wasn't cut out for the spotlight, high-society hob-knobbing and being catered to like a celebrity just for walking in the front door for a meeting with the mayor. He was a data scientist who was wearing his first of only three good suits amid a closetful of graphic T-shirts and jeans, and his one pair of nice glasses since contacts dried out his eyes and his other pair was several years old and one prescription behind.

Iris had told him to make a list on his phone, so that every time he realized there was something fundamental he needed, he'd jot it down to get later, since now he could actually afford to do so.

He quickly typed EXTRA PAIR OF GLASSES right below NON-BLUE SUIT COAT and SHOES THAT AREN'T CONVERSE. How had he missed that all three of his blazers were different shades of blue? Hopefully no one would notice over the next few days.

He'd purposely not worn a tie because he 1) hated them, 2) owned one and _really_ hated that one, and 3) was supposed to be a cool young Silicon Valley type apparently for coming up with these algorithms and so many worthwhile patents at only twenty-five. The only 'type' he was portraying right now in one of his few plain white T-shirts beneath his blazer was _uber-nerd_.

"The mayor is expecting you, Mr. Allen. Right through here," the young woman who'd greeted him when he arrived gestured to the door at the end of the hallway. "Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? Tea?"

"Oh, uhh…coffee? But with like three sugars and lots of cream til it barely even resembles coffee anymore, if…that's okay?" _Why_ was he ever allowed out in public? "Please?"

The woman smiled. "I take it the same way. Only Mayor Queen is the crazy one who takes it black with no sugar. You'll do fine." With another warm smile, she moved back down the hallway.

 _Wait, the mayor was crazy?_ Or was that meant to be an endearment? Barry had only talked to him through proxy until today.

Shoving his phone back into his pocket and adjusting the brand-new leather shoulder bag Iris and Eddie had given him as a going away present, he knocked on the door before peeking his head inside.

"Mr. Mayor?"

"Barry! So good to finally meet you in person. Come in."

The mayor stood from his desk and came forward to meet Barry halfway, shaking his hand vigorously. He was young, especially to be running such a large metropolis, but still older than Barry. Definitely a politician with his firm handshake, direct eye contact, and smart suit to compliment his— _wow_ , he was attractive.

Which was the last thing Barry should be thinking about his married _boss_. But he was. Blond, tall, well-built, strong jaw.

"Hi!" Barry stammered as he snapped back to attention. "I mean…nice to meet you too, Mr. Mayor. Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity."

"Please, call me Oliver," he said. "My staff never takes that to heart, but you're a special case, aren't you? You're more like _my_ boss in this, so let's make sure we do your work proud. Have a seat."

Barry was the boss? He was so in over his head. "Sure! Thank you…uh, Oliver."

"There you go. Drink?" Oliver asked as he returned to his desk.

Barry sat in the seat across from him. "Miss McCabe is getting me coffee."

"Good, good. Now, we're not jumping into anything before we're ready with this new program. While my team has been looking into your recommendations for reorganizing our officers, there are other things to consider."

"Right." Barry forced himself to remain skeptical of where the mayor might go with this. He couldn't be a 'yes' man. He would not be bullied into letting anyone use his models in a way he didn't approve of, and his shoulder bag was full of suggestions for how to make sure that didn't happen.

"Once things get put into motion," Oliver continued, "there will be a lot of press around this, around you and my office, and the last thing we want is to have it blow up in our faces. As you know, Star City has seen a severe increase in criminal activity over the past few years. It's part of why I was elected, because I promised to do something about it. But placing more officers in the neighborhoods most likely to see criminal activity could lead to profiling and general unrest among the citizens.

"My people want to feel safe, Barry, not targeted, so we'll be looking to you to help us prepare our officers appropriately to unsure this is a seamless transition that takes every citizen, especially those living in high-crime areas, into account."

Barry's mind somersaulted as he realized Oliver was telling him exactly what he'd been hoping to hear. He'd prepared so many fumbling speeches for this, but the mayor was already ahead of him.

"Do you understand what I mean, Barry?"

"Yes!" Sitting up straighter after realizing Oliver had been waiting for a response, Barry began pulling the research notes from his bag. "Yes, sir. I couldn't agree more. I have several additional preliminary models I'd like to discuss concerning police behavior based on available equipment, like body cameras, group mentality versus single officer or partner deployments, and numerous other things, which should help us prepare your officers to keep everyone accountable." He took a breath to slow himself down—sometimes he forgot that the rest of the world didn't move at his speed. "I want to help people, Mr… _Oliver_. Not make them fear the police more than they fear criminals."

For a politician, Oliver's smile certainly seemed genuine. "Music to my ears, Barry. You keep us accountable so we can better keep our officers accountable to protect this city—together."

"Thank you," Barry said as the buzzing nerves in his stomach started to shift into excitement. "This is why I chose Star City, you know, out of everywhere that vied to pilot this program. Because of you."

"Me? Not because our crime rate's so high?" Oliver grinned.

"Well…that too, but you accepted my proposal without trying to change any of my requirements. I researched the different officials I'd be working with in each city, and you were the only one that seemed like you really cared and wouldn't abuse what I'm trying to do, or look the other way if someone crosses a line. It's good to see that wasn't just fluff for the election. N-Not that I assumed—"

Laughter bubbled out of Oliver. "Oh, I like you, Barry. I'm glad you're willing to speak candidly. I want to do this right so that come next election year I'll have proven my platform wasn't just _fluff_. So," he slapped his thighs before rising from his desk once more, "let's meet my team so they can show you what they've been working on and you can show them your reports. We have a lot of work to do before we get to the major press coverage in a couple weeks. Though of course I have given a few statements to the papers in preparation of your arrival."

"R-Right." Barry tried not to trip as he clambered out of his chair.

"Not used to the attention?"

"Not really. I usually prefer hiding _behind_ the data." Clutching his papers to his chest, Barry realized he was literally hiding and shoved them into his bag. "At my previous job, I…someone else was always the front man."

 _Harrison_. He'd first been interested in Barry's body when they met, then his mind after learning their interests aligned. Harrison was Chief Technology Officer for the software component of STAR Labs, where Barry had also worked—after Harry got him a job. So many of Barry's ideas had helped grow that portion of the company in recent years, and Harrison had taken credit for every single one.

This, finally, was Barry's alone. He wouldn't let his anxieties take that away from him.

"You'll do fine," Oliver said, leading Barry out of his office. "You'll do great. I can already see it."

Everyone kept saying that, which either meant Barry was an obvious ball of stress that people felt sorry for or they honestly had faith in him. Probably both.

"Let's get that coffee from Miss McCabe. You'll need it. It's going to be non-stop from here on out, just to warn you."

"That's okay," Barry said, more relaxed than he'd been the first time he walked down this hallway. "I prefer when things move fast. I've never been very good at sitting still.

"Wait til you meet my wife after lunch," Oliver chuckled. "She's the same way."

"Oh, uhh…I have a meeting with the CEO of Smoak Industries—"

" _Barry_ ," Oliver laughed harder. "Didn't anyone tell you? Felicity Smoak _is_ my wife."

Barry had been so focused on researching Oliver's political career, he'd bypassed important personal details—crucial ones. "Wow, really? You're like a serious power couple."

"So they say—especially her. Ah, here we are." Oliver intercepted Miss McCabe carrying coffees for each of them. With only a glimpse, he easily guessed which one was Barry's. "Thank you, Miss McCabe. Barry, ready to get to work?"

Barry expected the buzz of nerves and excitement to taper off after that, but it remained constant, especially once he headed to Smoak Industries in a car Felicity had sent for him and he got to meet the First Lady of Star City firsthand.

"Barry! We are going to impress the _pants_ off you today." The woman shook his hand almost more fervently than her husband had. They were like Business Barbie and Ken, Barry noted—she was stunning. "Not literally of course," she winked. "Crap, did I just give a first impression of sexual harassment? Coz we can start over."

Barry could only answer with flustered laughter, but she barely paused a moment before moving on. The flurry of Felicity Smoak and the speed with which she was in total control after tripping over her words was what Barry aspired to be like someday. He never had any illusions about recovering from foot-in-mouth syndrome completely, but she wasn't even ruffled.

"Let's see if you consider us up to snuff to steal some of your time away from the mayor's office."

"Is that really okay?" Barry shuffled after her into the large skyscraper that humbled the mayor's office with its modern design, all metal, glass, and sharp angles.

"Conflict of interest with the mayor, you mean? Not to worry, Barry. I didn't call in any favors with my husband. You agreed to meet with me all on your own, remember?"

"Right! No, I know, but he won't be upset if I split my time? There's so much to do…"

"This is your show, Barry," she said, leading him briskly to the elevator for his tour of the building like she was just another office worker instead President and CEO. "You decide what you want. You're only contracted as part-time at the mayor's office, specifically because you wanted time for other opportunities. Well, that's what I'm here for."

Barry huffed like he'd been running a marathon when the elevator door finally closed behind them, bringing them up to the 32nd floor. "I'm just not used to having…"

"Options?"

 _Freedom_. "Yeah."

"This is your moment, Barry," Felicity nudged his shoulder, betraying her youth and easygoing nature, which was part of what Barry had liked about Oliver too. Anyone too uptight to be at ease with their peers—and those technically below them—could never understand the common man. "We're trying to please _you_ today. Enjoy it."

The final reason Barry had chosen Star City was because of Smoak Industries and Palmer Tech. Both were local and thriving software companies that did so much more than create marketing platforms or cloud technology. Palmer Tech was working on nanomachines to better distribute gene therapy to terminally ill patients, and Smoak Industries had developed a prototype for an electromagnet-pulsing chip that could help thousands of people with debilitating spinal injuries walk again. If Barry's predictive models could in any way help these companies with their next projects, he wanted to be a part of that.

"Felicity is a gem, right? I hope she didn't scare you off yet," Curtis Holt said after Barry's tour of the R&D labs.

Felicity had been called away to an investor meeting, handing Barry over to Curtis for the duration of his tour. As head of Design Innovation, Curtis had been the lead engineer in coming up with the biostimulator chip for paralysis patients, so Barry was keen to hear his perspective on the company's direction.

Barry also got the impression that Felicity had a soft spot for people with her same rambling tendencies—which Curtis had in spades. Barry could admit that it eased him to be around someone who stumbled into unfortunate ways of wording things even more than he did.

"You're gay, right?" Curtis blurted just as they were passing a cluster of people at a water cooler. Barry nearly tripped over his own feet. " _That_ was inappropriate. It's just that…I'm gay too. At least my husband thinks so." He elbowed Barry with a laugh, then clammed up again when Barry wasn't sure how to respond. "Bad joke again. Sorry. I just mean…I'd heard you were gay, and you know how we tend to move in packs, so if you felt concerned for any reason being in a new city, Felicity and the mayor are, like, super cool besides being genuine and extremely attractive people. Not that I think about the mayor's attractiveness!"

Barry had to laugh. The awkwardness had reached peak boiling point, but for once, he wasn't the cause.

"You're running straight for Palmer Tech and never looking back, aren't you?" Curtis said.

"No! No. I mean, I'd like to work with both companies. And also, yes…I'm gay. Just nothing more to say about it at the moment."

"Bad breakup?"

Once again, Barry faltered. If Curtis knew he was gay, that meant he knew about Harrison. STAR Labs in Central City was well known, even if the small software side of things wasn't as big a player as anything here. The right circles likely knew about Barry's ex without him having to say a word.

"Which you obviously don't want to talk about," Curtis broke into another harried ramble. "But if you ever need some friendly faces around for a game night or drink at the bar, my husband and I have _incredibly_ friendly faces. Him more so, coz obviously I think he's perfect, that's why I married him. He's also a much better conversationalist, I promise."

As uncomfortable as things turning toward Harrison had made Barry feel, he wasn't upset with Curtis. "I appreciate that, but I'm still settling in right now. In fact, when I get home, hopefully I'll actually have furniture."

"Is that why you had that catalog in your bag? Not that I was snooping," Curtis raised his hands to defend himself, "I just…noticed."

"Yeah. In case I didn't hear from them, I wanted to be able to call, but they texted me a while ago that they—" And just then, when Barry decided to take the catalog out of his bag as a prop for the conversation, the business card that should have been tucked securely into its designated page fluttered out like it was making a jailbreak, and Curtis bent to retrieve it first.

"I got it."

"Wait—"

"Nick of Time Escort Service?"

 _Shit_.

"Hey, I know this place!" Curtis smiled, then blanched when he noticed Barry's expression. "Not like _that_. I mean, maybe once or twice like that, before me and my husband, obviously, I don't, I'm…not judging, is what I mean." He thrust the card back at Barry.

 _Wonderful_ , Barry thought, tucking the card away again. At least there wasn't anyone near them in the hallway. He needed to remember to blame Iris if he ended up with a 'reputation' at work. "It's for dates only, if I needed one for events or anything. Not that I think I'll use it. Probably never. I just don't really want to date for real right now, you know?"

"I get it," Curtis nodded, genuinely seeming to understand. "Plus, I'm sort of glad that fell out."

"Really?"

"Yep. Now when you look back on your first day at Smoak Industries, hopefully you'll remember your totally unwarranted embarrassment over my completely justified humiliation."

Barry laughed. Curtis and Felicity made him feel like he could belong here as an escape from the more daunting task of managing the mayor's program. If what he'd experienced the past few hours was an indication of the next several weeks, months, and hopefully more to come, he might actually be able to do this, and he'd only just begun.

* * *

Len entered his apartment with a crick in his neck but a satisfied sensation buzzing through him after a successful night of work. Piper did tend to twist him into interesting positions, but as always, it had been a worthwhile and very lucrative evening.

Having foregone his suit for a more casual look—dark sweater, tweed jacket, jeans—now that it was late and Len had the opportunity to relax, he looked forward to a long shower and nothing to disturb him until morning. He was a night owl by nature, since his hours of operation tended to go late and he usually had the freedom to sleep in.

Removing himself of his jacket and heading to his sound system, Len turned on his mix of classical crooners. Nothing relaxed him quite like Ella Fitzgerald or Tony Bennett.

Tony's version of "Cold Cold Heart" began to play and Len closed his eyes to ease into his private space and personal thoughts. His home was his and his alone, a place untouched by anything he did outside these walls. Not even Mick had ever been inside. Only his sister, who rarely visited. More often he visited her back in Central City, because this space was his—his escape.

A frown passed over Len's features as the old thread of peace didn't fill him like it used to. Lately his quiet home felt more suffocating than he cared to admit and he couldn't understand why. Mid-life crisis, his sister had teased him after he turned forty. Maybe. And if so, how dull. How ordinary and expected. Just because he was getting older didn't mean he had to have some secret desire to settle down. It didn't mean he was lonely for something his clients couldn't offer him. He was perfectly content.

But content was something he strived for knowing happiness was rare. Happiness was still nice on occasion, only experiencing it was happening less and less often. Maybe that's why Len had felt off around Merlin, and the man himself had nothing to hide. He couldn't be sure now, and it bothered him that the peace he craved was being chased away by errant paranoia.

Len took his shower anyway, long and hot, steaming up the bathroom from end to end as he hummed to the music playing over the speakers wired throughout his apartment. It was a studio, but a large one, in whites and greys and navy blue, with only a few closets and the bathroom separated, while his bedroom merely had a wall that blocked the view to the bed from the entryway. He didn't need excess privacy when he lived alone.

Running a hand over the short buzz of his hair once he'd toweled off and wrapped himself in his softest robe, Len sat at his desk near the window to peruse his calendar. As expected, Sara had emailed him an updated copy of his schedule, and he could look ahead to what was coming up in future weeks, as well as see if any new requests had been made of him.

Another one from Merlin, since the system took too long, and he was still on the roster until the paperwork finished. Len wouldn't respond. Even if he was overreacting, he was done with the man, and good riddance. His other regulars were enough for him and didn't leave him with the same sour taste in his mouth—metaphorically speaking.

He checked his finances and his calendar outside of work, which included certain upper class events to avoid where he might run into clients, past and present. His sister and very few close friends called him meticulous to his face and anal behind his back— _and_ to his face, if that friend was Mick.

Len didn't mind. It comforted him to have control down to the minute detail. There were probably psychology papers written about how neglected children with abusive parents sought out destructive ways of controlling their lives—textbook really. Len wasn't a slave to predictability or fate, but he wouldn't pretend that having a mother who'd left and a father he would have been better off without may have led to some of his life choices.

Still, what he wanted now was something to stir up the monotony that left him feeling like something was missing from his life, something he couldn't put a name to.

After glancing at the clock to ensure it wasn't too late, he dialed his sister's number.

"Missing my sweet voice, Lenny?"

"Always, sis." Len leaned back in his chair to peer out his window at the city beyond. It wasn't the most spectacular view in town, but it was lovely all the same. Maybe he'd just needed Lisa's voice in his ear instead of Tony Bennett. "How are the kids?"

"Good batch this year. Just starting beginners figure skating."

"Your favorite."

"When's the last time _you_ put on a pair of skates?"

"Lord knows," Len chuckled. "Sibling activity next time I'm in town?"

"You're on." Lisa ran the youth programs at Central City Community Center. She hadn't 'settled down' either, no husband or kids of her own, but she was also a good decade younger than Len from his father's second marriage. "How are _you_ , Lenny? Any diplomats or Princes added to that roster of yours?" She always asked that, wondering when he'd be whisked away to a life of luxury by some benevolent benefactor, but real life wasn't like _Pretty Woman_.

"Princess, in a way, but I dubbed her 'Prince' in the books just for you."

"Really? Like, a real princess? From where?"

"Now, now, Lise, you know I can't divulge actual specifics."

"Spoilsport." He could hear her pout over the phone. "What can I say, your glamorous lifestyle does sound appealing on occasion."

"You love your life," he said, which was all he'd ever wanted for her.

"I do. Do you?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I?"

"You have that tone again…"

"What tone?" He sat up straighter, frowning at how well she could read him even over the phone.

" _Wistful_. Like you're up in your head too much. I just want you to be happy."

"I'm not…unhappy." Len winced at not being able to uphold the lie he'd had ready and fumbled to continue. "I have full control over my life."

"Yeah? Well sometimes _losing_ a little control is necessary to shake things up. Don't be opposed to unexpected surprises."

"What are you now," he huffed, "my horoscope?"

"Just your concerned sister, smartass. I hate that you're all alone so far away."

Shrugging off the tension that had built up in his shoulders, Len pushed out of his chair and walked closer to the window, staring over the skyscrapers that were very different from the ones he'd grown up with. He'd moved here to put some distance between him and his father years ago, but Lisa wasn't the only thing he missed.

"I'll visit soon. And I'm not alone. I have Mick."

"And when's the last time you two had a deep conversation?"

"I have Sara for that."

"Who you almost dated."

"We didn't almost date," Len defended, "I stole a kiss under the mistletoe in her office doorway last Christmas. Rule #2, never date a coworker."

"What's rule #1?" Lisa snarked.

Glancing down at the open calendar on his computer screen, Len fought a sneer he couldn't comprehend. "Never date a client. I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

"Okay, Lenny, but like I said, change could be good for you. We'll talk soon."

"Yeah. Soon."

Change. Len could use some change, but toward what, he wasn't yet sure.

* * *

Barry's first week had gone wonderfully. It really had. Everyone was great, and he did intend to take Curtis up on that offer to reclaim his status as a third wheel for a married couple some night soon. But he was exhausted, and whenever he got home after a long day, he just wished he had someone to talk to who wasn't a coworker or hundreds of miles away.

As he hung up his jacket and looked around his newly furnished apartment, he considered the weekend ahead of him with no plans whatsoever to look forward to…and wondered what Harrison might be up to.

His phone ringing interrupted him.

"Hello?"

"Don't call him," his best friend's voice came over the line.

"Cisco? How did you know?" Barry said, plopping down onto his sofa. It was a large, plush, half-square shape in deep burgundy that easily could have allowed a grown man to stretch out on either side. Barry laid down that way now, staring at the empty side opposite him.

"I know you, dude," Cisco said, one of the few college friends Barry had connected with, and someone who'd known him before he met Harrison. "You're hundreds of miles away from your friends and you don't make new ones easy. You're probably sitting at home alone, pining after that asshole because you're lonely."

Barry groaned. "Why are you always right?" Everything else was perfect, and Harrison Wells was still ruining his evening.

"Do me a favor, man, okay? Go out. Meet someone new. Meet anyone new. Don't give in and call him. It's been months. You're finally over the hurdle. And remember, you left him for a reason. You deserve something so much better."

If it hadn't been for Iris, Eddie, and Cisco, Barry probably would have gone back to Harrison out of sheer fear after the first few days. "I just wish I could skip the hard part of meeting someone, ya know, get right to…having someone over for dinner, someone who'd talk with me, and hold me, and not only want me for sex." There he went again, sounding like a Lifetime Channel movie, but it was the truth.

Cisco hadn't once belittled him for it. "I get it, man. Too bad you can't hire someone for that sorta thing, right?" he joked.

Glancing down at his shoulder bag on the floor, which still had the catalog in it because Barry had been debating ordering more pieces all week, the last thing that sprang to mind was the furniture in its pages. "Yeah…"

"Dude, I'm kidding!"

"Me too!" Barry sprung up and turned to face the coffee table. "That would be…totally weird."

"I'm serious, Barry," Cisco said, "go out. Have fun. Trust yourself. I wanna come visit sometime, but only after you've settled in and can actually show me around."

Iris had said something similar when she checked in earlier in the week. "That sounds awesome."

"Be good, man, okay? You're gonna kick ass at everything coming your way, I know it."

"Thanks, Cisco. And I'll take your advice. I promise."

He really wanted to. Cisco knew him almost as well as Iris did, after all. They'd bonded after having various classes together, and Cisco had gone on to become an engineer. There were many things they could talk shop about, or just wax on for hours about comic cooks and sci-fi movies. But Cisco's biggest appeal as a friend was how sometimes he just knew when Barry was about to do something profoundly stupid and stepped in to intervene, like a sixth sense.

Tapping his fingers on his shiny new coffee table, Barry tried to dismiss how antsy he felt on his first Friday night in the city. He wasn't the partying type. He didn't want to go out to a bar or a club or anything like that. He wanted a date without having to find one, and not a one-night stand either. He didn't want sex. All Harrison had ever wanted from him was to _take, take, take_. Barry wanted company without any hang-ups attached.

He snatched his bag from the floor before he could second guess himself and took out the catalog. He'd left the business card inside all week when he easily could have thrown it away. Pulling out his laptop next, he went to the web address listed on the card, something he hadn't dared to do all week either.

It was a fairly classy layout, all things considered, and Iris was right that everything was worded in a 'don't expect sex, but it's totally on the table' sort of way for legal reasons. But the rules would be his to set; he could have whatever he wanted, no 'sexy times' required. He could even choose the type of man he wanted, sort of the same way he'd picked out his furniture—which was a terrible thing to think about a person, yet there Barry was, looking at a _catalog_ of attractive men.

They listed things like height, age, ethnicity, likes and dislikes, even talents. Barry told himself he wasn't hung up on Harrison just because he filtered the selection by men over forty.

There was even a note at the top of the page listing a bonus cost for 'anything goes', and wow was it steep, but considering what Barry wanted from this, maybe he fell under that category. He had the money, and he needed something he could control just this once.

Dialing the number, he felt his heart in his throat but refused to chicken out.

"Nick of Time Escort Service?"

* * *

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

Rip would have been proud. Len was taking on a new client. At least for the night. He doubted it would turn into anything ongoing, but when the request came through, he hadn't been able to deny his curiosity to agree for one evening's work.

"Barry Allen? The one the mayor's been talking about who's going to turn the city's criminal activity on its head?"

"That's the one," Sara had said over the phone. She always called if a request was pressing and from someone not currently on the agency's roster.

"He check out?"

"Squeaky clean. Medical records from only a couple weeks ago, probably for the move. Maybe even ordered by the mayor. Or maybe he just wanted a fresh start from Central City. That's where you're from, isn't it?"

"Don't change the subject, Sara. What else does his profile say?"

"I forwarded you the request. Have a look. He wants you for tonight, as soon as possible. I know you don't do last minute, but I figured it might give you a laugh. He didn't even select any backups."

Len sat at his computer and pulled up the email, which included a private link to the request form. It listed similar items as what the escorts put on their profiles for the catalog, along with the medical report and a photo—which caused Len to snort.

" _That's_ the picture he sent?"

Sara could barely contain her snickering. "He didn't have a recent photo so he took a selfie."

It wasn't terrible, but the image was too close up to be flattering. Len could mostly only make out a dopey smile, dark glasses, and a floof of brunette hair. The kid looked even younger than his profile suggested.

Barry Allen was a twenty-five-year-old data scientist from Central City, about Len's same height, with a clean bill of health. Likes included lounge music and show tunes, sci-fi movies, and quiet evenings in—right up Len's alley—while dislikes only stated clubbing and crowds.

Then came the note at the bottom— _anything goes_. Bit of a misnomer, since escorts always had the prerogative to say no, but with the extra fee involved, it was a rare occurrence that what was requested was so outlandish they'd refuse. Usually, it fell more under embarrassing for the client to voice aloud than dangerous or depraved. Still, Len was intrigued.

"Tell him yes. I'll be there in thirty minutes."

"Seriously?" Sara said in surprise.

The profile was so innocuous for someone to request 'anything goes', and that photo, while ridiculous to say the least, made him wonder what the real thing might look like. Besides, Len had an empty slot to fill, and his instincts were rarely wrong.

"One of three things will happen when I arrive," he said, leaning back in his chair to stare at the profile. "One, he'll prove to be an insufferable, entitled brat, who made it rich young and wants to splurge his first Friday night in the city. Two, this is all an elaborate prank by some of his friends and he'll have no idea why I'm showing up at his door. Or three…he'll surprise me.

"If it's the first option, I reserve the right to leave if he can't be dealt with, if it's the second, I'll hardly be fazed and be on my way, but if it's the third," Len grinned as a flutter of excitement stirred in his belly, "who knows what the evening might bring."

"Ever the gambling man, Leonard?" Sara huffed a laugh over the line.

"Thirty minutes," he said again and hung up as soon as she acknowledged him.

Those thirty minutes were gone now, with two to spare as Len headed up the elevator in one of the nicest high-rise apartment buildings in Star City. It was possible he'd gone overboard with his attire for the evening, but regardless of how things turned out, he wanted to make the kid's jaw drop when he opened the door.

Len had chosen his nicest three-piece suit in blue, white shirt, navy and silver paisley tie, vest double-breasted but jacket single, with his heather-grey wool coat and a checkered blue and grey scarf to compliment the ensemble. He even had the tease of a red handkerchief sticking out of his top coat pocket for a splash of color.

Right on time, Len approached the penthouse apartment door and knocked twice. He heard the sound of scrambling feet on the other side but instead of a lurch of the door opening, there was a pause, like the occupant was second guessing himself before he slowly opened the door.

Len's first sight of the young scientist was already a pleasant surprise. The selfie hadn't done the kid justice, because there were dimples in that pale skin and sparking hazel eyes behind the thick-framed glasses. He wore his hair stylishly enough, but he was less successful in the fashion department given the button up sweater over his collared shirt. It matched fine, blocked off in four distinct colors of grey, red, burgundy, and black, but it wouldn't be gracing any magazine covers. The skinny jeans fit well though, and he was—hmm—only wearing socks.

"H-Hi!" the boy stammered with a quick blush spreading over his cheeks in rosy scarlet. Not an insufferable, entitled brat then. "You're from the…I-I mean, y-you're the…" He paused for breath. "Leonard, right?"

"Len," Len corrected, though a few clients insisted on using his full name. "Len Snart. And you're Barry Allen." It wasn't a question anymore; this was definitely Len's evenings in, sci-fi loving client for the night.

"That's me," Barry said, scratching the back of his head like he never spent even a moment out of motion. Len would have pegged him for a virgin being this jumpy if the kid hadn't put 'a few months ago' for his last sexual activity.

The poor thing was preoccupied enough with taking in Len's appearance that he didn't say anything else right away or step aside to let Len in. The jaw-dropping portion of the evening was a resounding success.

"Well, Barry, seeing as how you aren't wearing shoes, I assume we're not going out, so…shall I come in?"

"Oh! Of course!" Now, finally, Barry made room for Len to move past him into the apartment. "And no, we're not going out. I'd rather stay in, if that's okay?"

 _If that's okay._ "I think you misunderstand how this works, Barry." Len refrained from betraying his own jaw-drop when he got a look at the apartment, with windows all along one wall that put his own view of Star City to shame, and an eclectic but personable taste level in decorating that he found instantly charming. The space had to be twice the square feet of his own apartment. " _Whatever you want_ is okay. You set the stage, and I perform to your specifications. Sound fun?" Finishing a cursory survey of the apartment, Len snapped his attention back to Barry.

"Y-Yeah," he exhaled as he closed the door behind Len. "Sorry, I know I seem like a nervous wreck, I'm just out of practice with…human interaction, apparently." He laughed at himself and scratched the back of his head again, before jerking forward like he'd forgotten something important. "Let me take your coat."

"Thank you," Len said, allowing Barry to remove him of his jacket, scarf included, and hang it on a coatrack by the door. Adorable _and_ polite. Len was won over by his decision to come here more every minute. "And you can relax, Barry. There's nothing to be nervous about. It's my job to make you feel at ease. Now, what will we be up to this evening if we're…staying in?" He gave the kid his most seductive glance, a flick of his eyes downward and back up to Barry's face with a crook to his smile.

Barry almost tripped over the bottom half of the coatrack, and Len had to wonder how far down that slender neck the scarlet went. "I-I kinda wanted to start with dinner?" Barry squeaked, then cleared his throat and made a hasty retreat toward the kitchen.

The skinny jeans fit _very_ well.

"I finally stocked up on groceries and was craving something home-cooked," he said while Len followed him toward the long island that separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment, "since the week was so busy and I kept eating on the go. I'm not good at too many dishes, but this one of my mom's is perfect. If you haven't eaten yet?" he looked back at Len with sudden worry.

Len had eaten. He always ate a little before seeing a client, as he never knew whether a meal would be included, but he'd kept to a light snack just in case. "I can eat. Smells lovely." It did. Tomato based, maybe a little cheesy, spicy.

Creasing his dimples further with his smile, Barry gave the pan on the stove a stir and turned off the burners. He had plates ready with salad portioned out, waiting to be joined by the main course. Behind Len to the left of the entryway was a quaint dining table with different colored chairs. Two glasses and a bottle of wine waited for them as well.

"It's this goulash, casserole thing," Barry said as he dished up a helping for both of them. "Goes really good with wine, and I got a few bottles as going away presents, and some welcome gifts from Smoak Industries and…" his brow creased on the way to the table, carrying both plates, "I think this one is from Palmer Tech? I haven't found the time to meet with their CEO yet. It's been crazy. Oh," he spun toward Len after setting the table, "I'm—"

"I know who you are, Barry. I read the papers." Len took a seat in the blue chair, leaving Barry to sit at his left in the red. "Must be exciting."

"It is!" Barry started to pour them each a glass of the no doubt highly expensive pinot noir. "Terrifying, but exciting. Everyone's made me feel really at home so far."

"Yet you're spending your Friday night alone?" Len had never been good at holding back his inquisitiveness. It's what kept him one step ahead of other people.

"I wanted something low-key. Quiet." Barry closed his eyes and breathed in as if to better hear the music playing that Len had almost missed— _Sinatra_. So far, Barry hadn't told any lies on his profile, and his lashes fluttered prettily against his cheeks when he opened his eyes. "Sorry, I'm trying to relax. I'm just bad with change, and there's been _a lot_ of change in my life the past few months."

"More than moving?" Len asked, thinking it rather serendipitous that Barry was looking for balance while Len was looking to shake things up, yet both might find what they wanted in the same place.

Then a shadow darkened Barry's expression. "Yeah…" he said quietly—a nerve to be avoided, it seemed.

Len would have to pay closer attention. Not that he'd never had someone call upon his services to help them get over something difficult—divorce, being fired, hitting a milestone birthday while still single. Everyone had their hang-ups and reasons for wanting an escort instead of a blind date, but Barry remained an enigma as far as what he wanted and what 'anything goes' might mean.

Taking his first bite of the meal in front of him, Len couldn't wait to find out more.

* * *

"This is delicious," Len said, surprise in his eyes that made Barry think he meant it instead of just being kind. It was tough to know how to read the man since he might be especially proficient with acting to always give a client what they wanted. Maybe Barry couldn't trust anything he said or how he reacted, but he had the feeling that Len wasn't the type to ever do something he didn't want.

He was also far hotter in person than any pictures portrayed. Early forties, even with a dusting of grey in his closely cropped hair, but his face made him look five if not ten years younger. His features were flawlessly carved, blue eyes hypnotic next to tan skin. And the _suit_ —it was like having dinner with a movie star.

Sure, Len's photos on the agency's website had been similar, showing him off in smart outfits and strong poses, but to have chosen him in a catalog one moment and have him here now barely an hour later was surreal. There hadn't been any contest among the other escorts in Len's age range once Barry found his profile. For one, they had similar interests, and Len didn't look anything like Harrison. He looked like the sort of prince charming fantasy man Barry would have dreamed up as a teenager.

"Th-Thanks," he stammered again, struggling to remind himself that there was no pressure tonight. He didn't have to impress Len, and nothing would happen that he didn't want. "It was always my favorite dish my mom used to make."

"She doesn't make it anymore?"

Barry coughed on his first bite and took a sip of wine to clear his throat. "Uhh…no." Why did he have to walk into _that_ conversation within the first five minutes? He stared down at his plate. "After my parents…passed away, it was the only meal I could remember well enough to try to replicate. It took me years to get it right. My adopted dad and sister were really supportive guinea pigs though." He glanced up with a shy smile.

If Len was bothered to learn Barry was an orphan, he didn't show it. He remained neutral, not pitying, as he stared back at Barry steadily. "I'm sorry, I keep mentioning things that upset you."

"No, it's fine." Barry twirled his fork for another bite. "My parents have been on my brain a lot lately because of the job. I came up with the models to better predict criminal activity because of how they died. Robbery gone wrong. I was ten, almost eleven. I was playing in the backyard when it happened. Didn't even notice anything was wrong until I got hungry and went in for dinner.

"The thing is, there had been a rush of break-ins near our neighborhood. If someone had been paying closer attention to the data, they might have had more officers around, which could have dissuaded the thieves and… Well," Barry bowed his head again, self-conscious of how intense he could get on the subject, "there's no way to know, but I like to think that what I'm doing now might prevent what happened to me from happening to somebody else."

"That's very noble," Len said, smiling with an authenticity that was separate from his more seductive glances, which somehow made Barry even tinglier when their eyes met.

"Feels selfish sometimes."

"You're allowed to be selfish. Opportunities at Smoak Industries and Palmer Tech must be…profitable." Len raised the glass of wine before taking a drink. It was delicious and probably something Barry never would have spent money on himself.

"They do amazing things. I'm hoping to contract work with both companies. But they compete in certain areas, so it could get tricky. It'll have to be non-competing departments, and I'll have to be really careful about information I share. Assuming neither side tries to make me sign some crazy non-disclosure or says they won't let me work with the other. I don't think they're like that though, since they partner for charity work sometimes." Barry took another bite, another swig of wine, telling himself to stop being so chatty. He tended to ramble when he was nervous—or all the time really. "What about you?" he asked.

"What about me?" Len recaptured his smirk.

"Your profile told me basic things, but what didn't it say? Or is that inappropriate?" Barry had no idea what the precedent was being with an escort. "Am I not supposed to ask anything personal?"

The good humor in Len's eyes kept Barry's nerves from ramping up again. "What do you want to know, Barry?"

"Family?"

"Mostly just me and my sister. She's in Central."

"Mine too." Barry sat forward as he grabbed at the familiar thread. "My sister and her husband run this bar in Uptown, _Impulse_. Iris loves knowing everyone's secrets and being able to give advice, you know like that bartender who always has the answers to life's questions? I say she just likes to gossip," he chuckled.

"I'll have to see if my sister's ever been there," Len said. "Lisa works at the community center with the youth programs."

"That's cool." And so normal, not that Barry had a right to make assumptions just because Len was an escort. "It's obvious why I came to Star City. What about you?"

"Needed a change," Len shrugged. "Been here for years now."

"Maybe you can give me some pointers."

"Like where to find a good tailor?"

Barry laughed. Len must have noticed how much he'd been staring at his suit. "Please. I need to get some work clothes for next week before they realize I only have three blazers that are practically identical. My wardrobe's a disaster."

"I got that impression," Len nodded at Barry's sweater.

"Is this not good?" He'd spent more time picking out what to wear than cooking. Though compared to Len, he did look drab. "Shoot, I really like this sweater…"

"It's fine, Barry. Maybe more suited for a man a decade or two older than _me_."

Another laugh escaped Barry's lips. Len's teasing soothed him rather than coming across as at all mean-spirited. "No wonder Iris calls it my Mr. Rogers sweater." Undoing the buttons, he quickly shrugged it off and laid it over the back of his chair, leaving behind his simple black button down.

"Much better," Len said. "Maybe if you decide you'd like to see me again, I can take you shopping."

"Really?" Barry felt his face heat up at the thought. "That would be amazing."

"For now, I can give you some recommendations. You'd look nice in something more," he did that eye-glance down Barry's body that made him feel as if steam was about to pour from his ears like a cartoon character, " _fitted_."

Hastily shoving another bite of goulash into his mouth, Barry tried to avoid how terrible he was at taking compliments. Harrison had only praised him when he wanted something.

The faint music in the background changed to Ella Fitzgerald singing "Someone to Watch Over Me," one of Barry's mother's favorites, and he watched Len close his eyes this time with the pleasure of listening.

"Your taste in music makes up for the sweater," he said, all charm through his mild ribbing. "Part of what convinced me to accept you tonight."

"Yeah? I, uhh…left something out of my profile about that."

"Oh?" Len raised an eyebrow at him.

"I also like metal."

The shock of laughter that left Len sounded entirely sincere. "Showtunes from Mom, metal from Dad, I take it?"

"Actually, Mom was the Megadeath fan." The more they laughed and talked openly, the more Barry felt at ease, even discussing his parents, which was a rare occurrence. "I listen to metal when I work, Ella for relaxing."

"Fair enough. I won't consider it a deal breaker." Len even pulled a fork from between his lips and drank his wine with allure.

Barry was enamored by everything about him. Even if Len was only a fantasy, he was still tangible. "Your likes and dislikes were definitely what won me over about you. I mean, also because you're _gorgeous_. Uhh…" And then he had to go and put his foot in his mouth again. Barry drank more wine to hide how mortified he was to have said that. He should probably slow down considering what a lightweight he was.

Len was just easy to talk to, even though Barry got flustered whenever the man's eyes penetrated too deeply or he said something flirtatious. He was _supposed_ to be flirting, showing interest, making Barry feel wanted. It's what he was paid to do. But even if it was all an act, Barry felt a genuineness in Len's smiles.

"You decorate this place yourself?" he asked.

"Yep. I need some rugs and artwork I think." Barry turned to take in what he'd done so far. He still wasn't pulling off the hip young tech genius he was supposed to be, but he didn't care. He wasn't a modern or art deco type guy; he preferred plush furniture in bright colors that screamed comfort. "Debating what to get next is a nice distraction from being alone. Wow," he cringed after saying that, "I am super depressing, aren't I?"

"Not at all," Len said. "You're new in town, just getting your feet. Not everyone is the easily sociable type. But I have to ask, Barry."

"Yeah?" He whirled to face Len again, wondering if now would be when the man asked what came _after_ dinner, which Barry was sure he'd make a fool of himself explaining.

"You said sci-fi movie fan. What's your favorite?"

"Oh!" Barry brightened. "I don't know. Wow. I can only choose one? I guess I have a soft spot for _The Fifth Element_. Though _Terminator 2_ was the first movie that ever made me cry."

" _Terminator 2_ made you cry?"

"At the end, you know, when Arnie's being lowered into the molten metal and he does the thumbs up thing—cried like a baby." Barry was way passed being embarrassed by that. "I also have deep love for _The Thing_ and _Forbidden Planet_."

"Leslie Nielsen _Forbidden Planet_?" Len's interest couldn't possibly be fake with the way his features smoothed out.

"It totally holds up, don't you think? Oh, but I hate _Blade Runner_."

"Well now," Len said as if scandalized, "I was all on board until that. I don't think we can be friends anymore, Barry."

How did this man keep making Barry laugh so easily? "It's so overrated. And _boring_. Visually gorgeous, I get it, and the message is great about 'what does it mean to be human', but the storytelling does not work for me."

"So it should have had the voiceover?"

"God no. Have you heard some of it? It's so much worse!"

"That I will give you," Len shared Barry's mirth with a sideways twitch to his smile, "but in general, we'll have to agree to disagree."

Cisco said the same thing. He worshipped _Blade Runner_.

It surprised Barry how quickly they ate during the conversation. And went through the wine— _wow_. Refilling both glasses, while he didn't want to overeat, he felt like he could use the extra liquid courage, especially when Len took a slow sip and then left his wine on the table as he stood.

Sammy Davis Jr. singing "Something's Gotta Give" taunted Barry over the sound system. Frozen in place at Len's approach, Barry's breath caught when the wine glass was taken from him and Len curled his fingers around the back of his chair to lean in close.

"Dinner was lovely, Barry, but you paid for anything goes," he said, low and lilting. "Now, I maintain the option to refuse anything I'm not up for, but I'm curious. Just what do you want from me to pay so much for a night?"

A shiver rippled through Barry, but it was pleasant, not something to make him lean away, he just didn't know where else to move. "It's nothing weird. I hope it's not weird…" He'd always been the weird kid. Orphan, nerd, _gay_ , too skinny, too much of a doormat.

"Tell me," Len urged Barry with a sultry whisper. "What would you like me to do? Shall we move into the bedroom?" He cast his gaze to the open doorway at the far side of the main room. Barry had a real bed in there now. Simple, no headboard, with slate grey sheets. It was everything else in the room that was colorful, like the books on his shelves and the stained glass lamp on the nightstand.

"Y-Yes," he said and accepted the hand Len offered him.

The strength in the other man made Barry giddy as he was pulled from the chair. He was being led by the hand into his bedroom by the most attractive man he'd ever seen up close, and whose voice made him tremble down to his toes.

"Whatever shall we do once we get in there?"

"It's n-not…I-I just…" Barry was a stuttering, stumbling mess, a complete goon trying to find the words to explain.

"Relax, remember?" Len brought Barry's fingers to his lips and kissed them just as their feet crossed the threshold. He was gentle for all his strength, tugging Barry forward and turning them so he could coax Barry to sit on the bed. Backing up a step, he traced long fingers down the length of his tie. "Would you like me to undress for you?"

" _Yes_ ," Barry said, maybe too eagerly, but he'd decided before Len arrived that he wanted skin contact. "Just not _everything_ ," he added when Len started to loosen his tie. "Keep your underwear on. Please."

"You're assuming I'm wearing any," Len winked.

"You're not?!"

"Only teasing," Len rumbled with laughter. "We can start there."

The paisley tie came undone in two sure jerks on the knot. Coiling it around his hand, Len slid his jacket off next and set both items on the chair beside Barry's bed, where he also toed of his shoes. Then he started to undo his vest.

"I-I want…"

"Yes, Barry?" Len's voice saying Barry's name like that was making this harder— _much_ harder.

"I don't want you to do anything unless I ask you to," Barry said in a rush.

Len paused as his vest fluttered open, picking up on the seriousness of the request. "Of course. Anything you want. _Only_ what you want." His fingers undid the buttons on his shirt like a weaver pulling on thread. The crisp white stood out starkly against his skin, and the shade of blue in the vest and slacks complimented him like he'd been created with that color in mind.

Watching the slow, precise movements of Len taking off his clothes, Barry brought up a quaking hand to his own shirt. He had to undress himself; he'd never make it through this if Len offered to help.

"It's okay," Len said, the calm, even tone of his voice reminding Barry that it _was_ , that he didn't need to shake or be afraid, even though no one had touched him since…

 _No_ , he didn't want to think about Harrison.

"Your speed, Barry. Your rules." Len opened his shirt like parting the curtain to a great prize and shrugged it from his shoulders to fall to the floor.

He wasn't the broadest of men, but if his features were carved from marble, then his body was just as impeccable, especially the touches of softness around his muscle tone and the diamond of chest hair that thinned into a line on its way down until it disappeared beneath the line of his underwear. No waxed six-pack— _this_ was better. There was even the hint of a scar along Len's collarbone to remind Barry that he wasn't some statue come to life, he was real.

"Your _everything_ ," Len said.

Barry nodded, feeling empowered by his belief in Len and wanting everything that stood before him. The usual bashfulness over being too skinny didn't surface as he removed his shirt. He started to undo his jeans just as Len unbuttoned his slacks, and he had to wonder when he'd last seen another man in an intimate setting who wasn't _Harry_.

Seeking to banish any remaining traces of his ex, Barry kicked his jeans to the floor, impatient now for Len to join him. As soon as the other man was left in only snug boxer briefs, Barry scooted up the mattress.

"On the bed. Under the covers with me." He wasn't usually good at giving orders, but the way Len listened to him, grinned and slinked after him from the foot of the bed, made it easy to stay confident. Len didn't touch him when Barry yanked down the covers and they slid underneath together, not until Barry reached for him first.

Taking hold of Len's arms, Barry turned onto his side and wrapped Len around him like a blanket, snuggling back against his chest and feeling instant relief in the contact of skin. " _Yes_ …like this," he said as if he'd been holding his breath for months.

He could feel that Len was hard, stiffening behind him against his hip. Of course he was; Barry was too, and he hadn't explained that he didn't want to go further. Part of him wondered if he should change his mind. He could, he knew. Len expected him to ask for more, but this…this was all Barry wanted despite the stirrings in his body. Len's warmth and kindness and comfort—things Harrison had only pretended to give him.

It felt better than Barry expected it to, and he clung tightly to the arms around his waist, choked by the emotions catching in his throat as he basked in having someone with him who wouldn't ask for more than he could give.

* * *

There were plenty of attractive men in the agency's catalog closer to Barry's age, even a few Len respected for their tastes aligning closely with his own, enough that Barry could have found someone younger with ease. He wondered if the decision to have _him_ tonight was purely aesthetic or a conscious choice on Barry's part to have an older man, but Len had pried enough with questions during dinner.

Barry was such a fragile, sweet kid, blushing and endearing through it all, making Len want to please him all the more and give him everything he asked for.

"You smell even better than I thought you would," Barry sighed in pure bliss—just what Len had hoped.

Barry felt amazing pressed up against Len with his miles long legs and slender frame. The full line of their bodies connected, aside from the underwear, but Len imagined slowly smoothing his hands down Barry's taut stomach beneath the elastic, grinding forward and palming him until the kid begged for more. He couldn't do that yet though. He had to wait for Barry to _ask_ , which made it all the more thrilling.

"What next, Barry?" he whispered beside the boy's ear.

"Nothing. Just this."

"What?" Len blinked, certain he'd heard Barry wrong. "Just this?"

"Mmhm."

" _This_ is all you want?"

"Y-Yes…"

"Okay," Len said quickly when he sensed the tension returning to Barry's body and heard the worry in his voice, but he didn't understand.

This kid was beautiful and sweet, a good cook, a good conversationalist when not falling over himself with embarrassment, what could possibly be the reason he had no one to snuggle with? It wasn't Len's place to ask. Still, he was curious.

Holding Barry securely, Len offered tender strokes down his arm but no further. Pressed his cheek to the back of Barry's neck but didn't kiss him. Willed his body to come down from its excitement and held the boy like he'd been asked. He didn't know what to say, but he would never go against a client's wishes.

It wasn't long before Barry's shoulders started to shake, a sniffle and sharp intake of breath breaking the quiet. Len told himself not to recoil; he didn't want Barry to think this wasn't okay, but he didn't know how to handle someone breaking down in his arms who wasn't his sister.

"I'm s-s-sorry," Barry's voice shook with his body, "I don't know why I'm…crying…"

All Len could do was shush him, nuzzle closer, and let his hand travel past Barry's elbow down his forearm—

A flinch pulled Barry's arm out of reach. "S-Sorry. Old injury. It's fine. It doesn't hurt."

It was not fine. Len knew what this was now and it hardened like cement in his gut. Someone had hurt Barry. Deeply. Even physically, judging by that flinch. What monster had damaged him so much to cause this, Len wondered?

He shouldn't be the person anyone relied on, especially not when they were dealing with true, visceral trauma. Barry needed something more than _him_ , a friend, a therapist, not an escort in his bed. But who was Len to tell someone what they needed when Barry had asked for him?

When Barry pulled Len's hand back to reconnect on his forearm like an apology, like _he_ needed to apologize, Len couldn't keep quiet anymore.

"You don't have to answer, Barry, but…why? Why this?"

"Because I'm alone," Barry said, small but steady, like he wanted someone to hear this, though it was clearly still easier facing away from Len as he said it. "Because my friends and family are hundreds of miles away and I needed something tonight no one else can give me. I've always been terrible at dating.

"There was someone…a long-term someone, but he never gave me this. He never let anything be on my terms. I'm lonely without him, but I'm scared to go out. I don't want to fall into that same pattern and end up with someone else who only wants to use me for sex. Sorry!" He started as if he'd said something terrible. "I don't mean—"

"I'm not offended, Barry," Len cut off the kid's reaction to assume blame. "No one uses me for sex, I give it freely. There's a difference. If this is all you want, then this is all we need to do. But next time, you don't have to pay extra."

"I don't?"

"This isn't exactly what is meant by 'anything goes'," Len smiled against Barry's skin, and the boy's tension eased away in the wake of it.

"Oh," he said through a chuckle. "Iris says it's Ugly Duck Syndrome. I met _him_ after I…blossomed, I guess? I was so used to being a gangly dork in high school that no one wanted, I didn't know how to have confidence with people once I was—and this is her talking not me—hot."

"You are hot. You're stunning."

"You're paid to say that," Barry murmured. Normally, when someone shot that phrase at Len, he got angry, but Barry hadn't said it with any derision toward _him_.

"I'm paid to be here," Len said, "but I say what I feel. Your terms. Your wishes. And I am happy to oblige, Barry. But when it comes to my opinion, I will always be honest with you."

After a moment, he didn't think Barry was going to respond, but then his voice filtered up with a softly whispered, "Thank you."

Barry's sniffles faded as Len cuddled him close. Anything amorous between them tapered off, leaving only the quiet and two connected bodies lying in tandem.

Eventually, Len felt Barry's breathing steady, and he knew the kid had fallen asleep. He never slept with a client unless he was staying the night, and that hadn't been part of Barry's request. Len figured he'd give him a few hours, but only twenty minutes passed before Barry stirred.

"Sorry!" he yelped as soon as he roused and shifted in Len's arms to face him. He'd never taken his glasses off, so they sat askew now, and one side of his hair was flattened. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"You must have needed it," Len said, cupping Barry's fetching face and caressing a thumb down his cheek, which brought out a fresh blush.

"You don't have to stay the night or anything," Barry leaned into his hand even as he averted his gaze. Then his eyes went wide. "Is that extra? If I ever wanted you to?"

"It is. Still less than 'anything goes'."

"Right," Barry laughed, extracting himself from Len's hold so he could sit up. He appeared refreshed and less shaky when he reached to fix his glasses. "Thank you. I feel a lot better now. I needed this. I know we've been dancing around the subject, but…could this be a regular thing? Do you do that?"

"I do that." Len sat up next to him, unused to sharing a bed with a client when both of them still had an article of clothing on. "I'm very picky about who I take on as a regular, and I only have one slot available at the moment."

"Oh…" Barry looked down dejectedly at his lap.

"So absolutely, Barry," Len stressed that he meant that as a yes, "we can do this again. Since you were accepted onto the roster, you have the direct line to my handler. Call her to set up the sort of schedule you'd prefer and we can go from there. As long as I'm free, I can see you as many nights a week as you want—and can afford." He kept his tone light to put Barry at ease.

"Okay." Barry smiled so delightful and boyish. "I'll do that. I should let myself settle in more this weekend anyway."

They fell into simpler conversation after that as they got up and began to get dressed. Soon, Barry was walking Len to the door, but he paused at the computer desk to write a note for him.

"For your wardrobe. Ask for Carter. He has a good eye. Don't let the smugness deter you. Once he knows who you are and that you're willing to spend, he'll treat you well."

"Thanks. I'll…see you soon?" Barry asked, hovering after Len on his way out, still unsure of himself and blushing scarlet.

 _Scarlet_ —Len's newest name for the books.

"Looking forward to it, Barry."

He meant it. He meant everything he'd said to Barry during their evening together. But he had no idea what had possessed him to allow such a change to his routine. Len never took on clients like Barry—he didn't think there _were_ clients like Barry—but especially when this case meant that Len might not be the healthiest outlet for him, yet he couldn't bring himself to disappoint the kid and turn him away.

Len _had_ said he needed a change in his life. Maybe helping Barry was exactly what they both needed.

* * *

Falling against his door after Len left, Barry couldn't stop grinning. He'd fallen asleep with a stranger who'd obviously been thrown by his requests, but he hadn't made a complete fool of himself. And it had been so long since Barry felt that content in someone's arms.

When he scheduled Len for the night, he hadn't intended to make this ongoing. Money wasn't a problem, especially if Barry's needs fell under the normal fee for Len's services, but he couldn't let this go on forever, just…a few more nights to help him with the transition, so he didn't freak out and call Harry in a fit of desperation. Len's company was preferable, and Barry could use him for a few events coming up, not always just to…snuggle.

He was a good snuggler though, strong and warm and understanding. Barry wished he hadn't broken down like that, wished he hadn't flinched when Len's touch moved to the arm Harrison had bruised, but with this first night out of the way, he already felt more comfortable in his own skin than he had in a very long time.

Barry might be out of his mind for hiring an escort on the regular for snuggle sessions and dinner dates, but Len was like a dream and Barry was not ready to wake up yet.

* * *

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

The mayor was taking all of Barry's suggestions, even when his 'people' insisted that some of the recommendations were 'cost prohibitive'.

"Is it going to bankrupt the city or this project in any way?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Then we do things Barry's way. He has the data, and we want this program to work. Will it cost us more or less money if we have to scrap the whole thing in three months because we cut corners and failed?"

"But Mr. Mayor—"

"Unless we absolutely can't make things work the way he's suggesting and you have the numbers to back that up, we do things his way."

It meant that all the training and equipment Barry recommended for the officers was being implemented before the program went live. It wouldn't be perfect—nothing could ever be perfect—but they'd have the highest chance for success to prove the system worked. That meant more funding when crime started to decline, more opportunities, and overall safer neighborhoods all over Star City.

It also meant that Barry didn't feel glued to the mayor's office, worried that something would go off the rails when he spent time at Smoak Industries. He could relax. As much as he ever relaxed anyway.

Working with Curtis and his team made Barry feel more like he belonged than overseeing the mayor's group. The mayor's people were more statisticians and public relations officers. Curtis was a fellow scientist. Right now, Barry was a contractor for the company, an outsider looking in, but Felicity had promised him a full-time position if he wanted it. Still, Barry didn't want to decide anything long term too quickly. For once, he was taking his time.

He'd been so focused at the start of the week, refreshed from his idyllic Friday night and a low-key weekend of organizing his schedule—and a little shopping, thanks to Len. Barry hadn't gotten too many new outfits. The man Len had recommended, Carter, was a little smugger than Barry could handle in large doses. Plus, he wanted to fill out the rest of his wardrobe in Len's company if he could.

It was Wednesday now and Barry was seeing Len tonight. He hadn't been able to concentrate all morning. His tension and loneliness had started to increase again, a little more each evening he came home to an empty apartment. Iris, Cisco, and Eddie had helped a little, like they were tag-teaming to call him once a day to make sure he didn't break down and phone Harrison. Barry had no intention of doing that, but it seemed more manageable when he knew that tonight he had something to look forward to.

Len was so handsome, so attentive and engaging, his touch sure and strong and warm wrapped around Barry's body…

"You all there, Barry?"

"Huh?"

Barry looked up from the workstation they'd given him, where he was basically auditing all of the company's current and future projects for ways his models could benefit the research, or to see if he had any other epiphanies they might be interested in. A few times, he had assisted Curtis's R&D team where they were stumped, already proving his worth, not that he'd been put on the spot. He just felt so at home in this type of environment. Right now, however, he was a little too lost in his daydreams.

"Sorry, Curtis. Must need another dose of coffee," Barry smiled.

"I can get a fresh one for you, Mr. Allen," an intern jumped up excitedly.

"That's okay, Rory. I need to stretch my legs anyway."

Excusing himself from the large laboratory, Barry slipped into the hallway to head toward the nearest break room. He hadn't gotten around to buying an extra pair of glasses yet, but he wore one of his new blazers—charcoal this time instead of blue—over a darker charcoal sweater and slim black slacks. A little monochrome for Barry's tastes normally but much sharper than his usual looks.

He was so up in his head wondering if Len would like the new outfit when they saw each other tonight, that he didn't realize he hadn't taken his used coffee cup with him to refill until he was about halfway to the break room, down a deserted hallway about to pass an opening down another hall—when a large hand gripped his left forearm and yanked.

Alarm bells went off in Barry's mind like a bullhorn, panic gripping his chest and phantom pain shooting up his arm as his breath caught and he told himself to _fight_. Don't let this happen again _, fight back._ But he couldn't. He was too afraid, too immediately brought back to feeling small and trapped, that all he could do was gasp when his assailant pulled him into the corner and pushed him against the wall.

"M-Mr. Palmer?" Barry stuttered.

As the owner behind that strong grip materialized, Barry realized the hold hadn't been rough and he hadn't been pushed back with any force, of course he hadn't. This was Ray Palmer, CEO of Palmer Tech, who'd been trying to schedule time to see Barry since last week.

The man would have been intimidating for his impressive height, also his powerful build and classic good looks, if not for his humbling nature.

"Please, call me Ray," he said brightly, as if he hadn't just seized Barry and brought him into a dark hallway. "Glad to finally meet you, Barry."

"Uhh…shouldn't that be happening at _your_ building or over lunch somewhere?"

"Which you keep rescheduling on me."

"I-I haven't had time to—wait." Barry steadied himself and his breathing. He was _fine_ , Ray hadn't intended to scare him, but this was also highly suspicious behavior. "Is this corporate espionage?" he hissed.

"Nonsense," Ray chuckled. "Think of it more like a game of tag. Or keep-away, seeing as how Felicity has been keeping you away from me all week."

"I don't think she's purposely—"

"All in good fun, Barry." Ray patted his shoulder, sort of like the friendlier version of a high school quarterback who, in this case, would also have been captain of the chess team. "She wants first crack at you, I get it, but I have a proposal to make, and if I wait for your calendar to clear, you'll be knee-deep in projects here before we can get anything off the ground."

"O-Okay." Barry might have been quick when it came to deciphering data figures, but he tended to be slow in social situations, especially when taken by surprise like this.

"What's she have you working on?" Ray asked.

"Oh, I can't—"

"It's the next generation of those chips of hers, right? I'm not asking you to give up any secrets, Barry, all I'm asking is for you to listen to my proposal for doing a joint venture with my nanotechnology and help me present it to Ms. Smoak." He smiled with that wide, beaming expression again. Much like Oliver, he certainly seemed genuine for someone Barry probably shouldn't trust too easily. "Only if you like what I have to say, of course."

"Well…I guess I could _listen_ ," Barry said, trying to analyze the situation for any ways he might be in over his head or could get in serious trouble. "You've done joint projects before. But then…why can't you propose this to Felicity yourself?"

"I've tried," Ray leaned back a step, finally giving Barry room to breathe, "but I haven't been able to prove the data in a way her investors see as viable. But with your guidance, Barry, your models, I think we can make it work. Hear me out…"

Barry wasn't usually up for adventure like this, being secretive and squirreled away. His heart was beating rapid-fire in his chest the entire time, hiding at the end of a hallway no one went down, listening to a multi-million-dollar CEO in the building of another multi-million-dollar CEO tell him how together they could change the world.

He was pretty sure this _was_ corporate espionage, in a way, but as long as the end goal was for the benefit of both parties, it didn't seem like he was doing anything bad simply by listening, especially when it meant furthering medical technologies that could save lives on a whole other spectrum from what he was doing with the mayor's office.

Thinking of everything he could accomplish, he sort of felt like a superhero.

The proposal was fascinating, but Barry could see where the holes came in and why Ray and his scientists were stumped. It wasn't ready to be brought to Felicity yet. Barry would need to think about this, see some of Ray's data first, and work on the models himself.

"I won't share anything with you about Felicity's side, and I won't share anything with her about your side, but I need to use research from both to make this work."

"I'm putting a lot of faith in you, Barry," Ray nodded, "but the end results will be worth it if we can move forward on this together."

Barry hadn't signed anything with either company that prohibited him from doing something like this, but he _was_ technically going behind Felicity's back. He was terrified and excited at the same time. If this worked out, it was exactly the sort of thing he'd come to Star City to achieve.

He wanted to tell Iris, Eddie, and Cisco to get their opinions, but he couldn't risk leaving a phone trail.

Then he thought of _Len_. He could gush to someone in person in only a few hours. Once he'd parted ways with Ray and continued to get his coffee, he couldn't wait for the day to be over.

The catch in his throat from how he'd been ambushed lingered, but only enough to leave Barry slightly shaken. He didn't blame Ray, he just needed to do something to help him overcome his instant panic reaction whenever someone touched his left arm. He certainly hadn't meant to flinch when Len did it the other night.

Iris had suggested self-defense classes to build up his confidence, which he'd tried to start attending back in Central, but he hadn't really had time to keep it up. Along with all the other info Iris had gathered to help him settle into his new city, she'd included a gym that came highly recommended for that sort of thing, where Barry could get a personal trainer instead of having to do classes, which weren't really his scene.

Maybe he'd set something up before he headed home today and give _Wildcat Gym_ a call.

* * *

 _Prince_ was an ideal client. Gorgeous. Wealthy enough to request Len's services often, but not too often since she was also a busy woman. She wasn't a princess, not really, but an ambassador working in the city. Len forgot which tiny country she was from, but she might as well have been royalty for how she carried herself.

She didn't have the time or patience for romance, but she had needs to fulfill, and Len was the most efficient way to meet those needs on her terms and her schedule without complication. She also liked to tie him up and play with all sorts of toys, but she was the type of dominating partner who knew how to treat her companion with respect and care. Len wouldn't have put up with anything else.

Normally, he saw Prince in the evenings, but she'd agreed to a schedule shift to accommodate his other evening plans—Barry Allen.

"I appreciate you squeezing me in early."

"My pleasure, Leonard," the tall, Amazonian woman laughed lightly as she freshened herself up at the vanity mirror in her bedroom. "Or both of ours, I should say. A break in the afternoon is a nice treat on occasion. Busy man today, are you?" she grinned over her shoulder.

Len had nearly finished dressing, moving a little slower with the strain in his arms from being tied to the bedposts a few minutes ago. "Can I help it if I'm in demand?"

"Even the wicked need to rest, don't they?" She finished the application of bright red with a smack of perfect, bowed lips.

"It's not that kind of evening. Next week?"

"Certainly. I'll let Miss Lance know what works best with my schedule." Standing to stop him in the doorway before he could leave, she mimed kissing both cheeks to spare him the stain of her fresh lipstick. " _Ta leme_."

"Soon," Len nodded.

He needed to shower and change before seeing Barry. Len enjoyed his work, wouldn't do it if he didn't, so it surprised him how excited he was for the evening ahead, without the usual endgame on the menu.

Barry was in the system now, meaning his requests came right into Len's inbox like a normal email.

 _Remember how I can't cook anything besides that goulash?_ Barry had said. _Should we order in?_

Len had messaged back a grocery list. _I'll teach you how to make something new tonight, Barry. Unless you had other ideas?_

 _No! That sounds perfect._

Len arrived to find the boy looking even more delectable than he had the first evening, and far better dressed.

"Carter holds up, I see," he said as Barry invited him inside.

Barry's cheeks filled with color to solidify his codename when he glanced down at his sweater. "Kind of a jerk, like you warned me, but I really like the things I got. This is good?"

"Very good." Len had toned down his own wardrobe tonight, a white button-down with a cream sweatshirt and tan slacks, painting him more pastel than Barry's ensemble in grey.

"I need an extra pair of glasses next," Barry said, leading Len to the kitchen, where he already had the groceries set out on the counter. "I was thinking of something more delicate than my black ones for contrast. Maybe gold? Thinner frames?"

"I can picture that. Would you like company for another shopping trip, Barry?"

"Can we?" Barry filled with light when he got excited like it might burst from his pores.

"Absolutely. Perhaps this Saturday afternoon? I believe my schedule is free."

" _Great_. I'll send a request tomorrow. We can get lunch. But dinner first, right?" Barry glanced skeptically at the collection of ingredients waiting for them. "I'm a fast learner but a bit of a klutz. You may regret wearing light colors when we're working with pasta sauce, and it's probably best if I do minimal chopping. Though I guess we don't need to chop anything…"

"Not for this recipe," Len smiled. "Ever learned how to make a good lasagna?"

Those large hazel eyes kept catching Len off guard. "I figured that's what we were making from the noodles, but this seems different."

Len's list had told Barry to get ground turkey instead of hamburger, and spinach and sundried tomatoes to go with the ricotta filling. "My own recipe. I like to experiment. The real secret is in the right cheese." He patted the bag of shredded whole-milk mozzarella, that he then realized was open with a few shreds spilled onto the counter.

"It's _really_ good cheese," Barry said, scratching the back of his head to betray his embarrassment. "I may have stolen a few handfuls already."

This kid had no idea how charming he was without trying. "Well then, you've mastered step one of this meal." Grabbing his own handful of mozzarella, Len devoured it from his fingers with unabashed enthusiasm.

Barry laughed. That scarlet blush was going to be their constant companion.

"I wrote down the recipe for you," Len said. "All you have to do now is watch me, follow my instructions, and tell me about your day. Still settling in well?"

As Len rolled up his sleeves to get to work, Barry mirrored him and eagerly fell into a fast-paced retelling of his week's highlights so far. Len understood now what Barry needed from him—basic companionship. A warm body in his home. A friendly face around to listen and exist in his presence without obligations between them, besides Len's fee. A _friend_ , but more intimate than that when Len expected to undress and hold the boy close again at some point. Even the most open-minded of friends might not be up for that caveat to a new relationship.

There were times when Len played the role of date with his clients. He'd cooked with them before too, but conversation rarely strayed to anything deep and a 'happy ending' was always expected, often the main attraction for the night, much more the focus than a meal. Barry flipped that on its head.

If this was one of Len's other clients, he would have stepped up behind Barry while cooking and guided his hands until their pulses ratcheted and the boy's hips ground back against his own. But Barry didn't want to be seduced, so Len remained at his side instead.

"You don't think I'm being taken advantage of, do you?" Barry asked once they had the lasagna in the oven and were slicing bread. They'd already opened a bottle of wine. Barry said he was a beer man too, so Len decided that the next meal they shared in this apartment would be paired with something lighter.

"You're the one in a position to take advantage, Barry," he said. "You could come to a conclusion with your models, take the research from both sides for your own, and screw over both companies."

"I'd never do that!"

Len snickered at his scandalized expression. "I know. Just saying, you're not under any legal obligations, only moral ones. Smoak and Palmer are lucky they're dealing with you and not someone less scrupulous."

That seemed to be what Barry wanted to hear. He must have been used to being taken advantage of. "It's kind of fun," he said, walking the plate of bread to the table while Len followed with their half-drunk glasses of wine, "sneaking around, working on a side project like a spy or something."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. Who knew data science could be so exhilarating?"

"It's not usually so clandestine," Barry chuckled, "but thanks for your input on the whole thing. I feel better after a second opinion. Ray seems so nice."

Ray Palmer, possibly the richest man in the city, was _nice_. "You do realize how impressive it is that you're on a first-name basis with three of the most powerful people in Star City?"

Even when Barry's face scrunched he looked endearing. "I don't think of it like that. They're all pretty down to earth."

Len and Barry sat to enjoy more of the wine and a slice of bread, taking up the same seats as their first evening. The red chair suited Barry. "Don't get too comfortable with that being the case. They're rare breeds. A lot more people in their positions would be ruthless."

"I know," Barry nodded solemnly. "That's why I came here instead of staying in Central."

"Your past company had some villainous characters in it?"

There came that shadow over Barry's features again. "My ex. He took a lot of my ideas as his own, said they'd have more luck being accepted if they came from him since he was CTO. Which isn't entirely a lie," he added in a rush, maybe used to defending the man, "that did give the ideas more clout, but it took me a long time to recognize how much he was using me."

Len burned with curiosity to press for more about this mystery ex—a CTO in Central City, a clear asshole, a man closer in age to Len most likely—but he hated the way Barry's shoulders drew up when he was upset. He didn't want to be reminded of the past.

"You know what they say?" Len raised his glass for a toast, and Barry brought his forward to clink. "The best revenge is living well."

Barry glowed at the thought as if he still didn't believe how well he was living.

The oven timer dinged, and Barry took in a deep breath. "That smells so _good_. I'm starved," he said as he pushed from the table.

"Ah, ah, ah," Len rose to follow him. "It needs to rest before we can dish up."

"For real?" Barry looked so crestfallen. He lived his life at breakneck pace lately, while Len preferred to slow things down. "I was that kid who ruined pans of brownies because I couldn't wait for anything to 'rest'."

"I never would have guessed," Len teased him. "Patience, Barry. All things in due time."

They settled in the kitchen after removing the pan from the oven, and leaned against the island and cabinets facing each other.

"Speaking of time," Barry said, "I knew it was only a matter of time before I started getting invites to bigger events. When Ray and I were talking, he invited me to this fundraiser in a couple weeks, a chance to hob-knob with the right people and bring the different sides of my work together. I really should have a date." Bashful in the span of seconds, he glanced down at his twiddling thumbs. "I'm terrible in situations like that, so someone who can help me navigate being, you know… _normal_ would be really appreciated. Would you come with me?" His long lashes batted at the desperate request. "Is that okay or do we need to keep things more private—"

"I'd be delighted to accompany you, Barry," Len said, having expected this eventually and unable to deny how eager he'd been. "Well timed for our shopping trip then. How many suits do you own?"

"Like _full_ suits? Coz it's more like blazers, and I don't really like ties…"

This kid was in desperate need of spit and polish. "You've been invited by Ray Palmer to a fundraiser. You're going to need to wear a tie. Maybe even black tie?"

"Not black tie," Barry assured him. "So I figured I could get away with—"

"You still need a tie," Len scolded him. "We'll find something comfortable for you. I bet you've never had a suit tailored to your measurements before. You want to impress these people, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll help you do just that in something you'll love, I promise. But I should warn you." Len hated to bring this up but he owed Barry the truth.

"Warn me?" Barry blinked at him.

"I tend to avoid these types of events because there is the chance some of my other clients might be in attendance. Now," he continued quickly when he saw the concern enter Barry's face, "you signed the same forms they did, they know not to call attention to me or what I do, and I wouldn't expect any of them to, but if they see us together, they will make assumptions."

"Oh," Barry relaxed on the spot, "I don't care about that. Unless you do?" and went right back to worried.

"I'm quite comfortable with who I am, Barry," Len grinned.

"I never would have guessed," Barry mocked back at him, then chuckled to himself before looking at Len sheepishly. "I know you can't answer this, but…you don't have Ray or Oliver as clients, do you?"

"No, Barry. I can tell you plainly, that to my knowledge, no one you're working with is a client of mine. But that doesn't mean a fundraiser for Palmer Tech won't come with familiar faces."

"I get it," Barry said. "Not that I'm worried, but how do you keep your clients anonymous anyway? You know my real name. I assume you know everyone's real names."

"I don't refer to them as that in mixed company. We use codenames for our clients."

"You do?" Barry perked up. "Like what?"

Clearly, the kid still had playing spy on the brain, but Len didn't want to embarrass him by admitting he'd dubbed him Scarlet because of his blush. "I have one I call Narcissus."

" _Narcissus_?" Barry fell into giddy laughter. "That full of himself?"

Usually, Len didn't discuss his clients with anyone outside of Mick, but Barry's curiosity was harmless by comparison. "He has a mirror on the bedroom ceiling."

" _He does_?" Barry flushed with color, though the way his eyes darted down Len's body proved he wasn't completely without interest.

"Then there's The Godfather," Len said.

"Like…he's with the mob?" Barry whispered.

" _She_ is the daughter of a very cutthroat businessman, but I don't believe he has actual mafia ties. I certainly hope he doesn't." If Vandal Savage was a mob boss in disguise and ever found out that Len was hired by his daughter for bi-weekly romps in the bedroom, he'd have his head on a chopping block in hours.

"She?" Barry asked in a quiet voice, kicking out at the kitchen floor with one of his sock-clad feet.

This always came up when Len had a new client; they wondered if he had a 'type' since he populated on both sides of the _Nick of Time_ website, but the things most people had a preference for didn't mean as much to him. As long as he felt drawn in, anyone could catch his interest. "I tend to see more men than women, but I equally enjoy anyone's company. Does that bother you?"

"No," Barry was quick to answer. "Sorry, I shouldn't ask about other clients."

 _Jealous_. Mildly maybe, but it was there. Many clients got jealous, but it stirred something different in Len seeing it in Barry.

Daring to take a risk, he pushed forward and slid his hands overtop Barry's on the island counter, eliciting a gasp from the timid young man.

"When I'm with you, Barry, you are all I'm thinking about. I promise," Len said and gently lifted Barry's hands to tug him toward the stovetop. "Now come on. Get the plates. I wouldn't want to torture you any further waiting for your hard-earned meal."

A giggle passed Barry's lips, his blush still potent on his cheeks as Len's gamble paid off. Not that he wanted to push Barry for anything physical, he'd never push, but he hoped to get the boy more comfortable accepting what he offered even if that never went further than a cuddle.

What Len couldn't admit yet was that when he'd been with other clients the past few days, often his thoughts had strayed to _Barry_.

* * *

The lasagna tasted amazing, and it was a meal Barry could replicate in the future, though there was something far more enjoyable about having made it with Len's help.

Barry wasn't filled with the same anxieties he'd experienced the first night they saw each other. Now, the ice was broken, even if he still stumbled over himself every few minutes. But if Len was going to be put off by first impressions, he would have run for the hills and never returned.

Still, Barry wasn't sure how to segue from finishing another delicious meal together to cuddling against Len's body again, skin on skin, without sounding like a complete _dork_.

 _Um, can we undress now?_

Urg.

A crack of thunder made Barry jump, almost loud enough to rattle the walls, and drew his attention to the windows and just how dark the clouds had become outside. He'd caught flickers of lightning a few times during dinner, but now he could see the storm in full swing, one of those impressive displays of sparring lightning shooting from one cloud to another in an endless dance.

"Afraid of storms?" Len asked with a touch of humor.

"I _love_ storms," Barry turned to him with a grin, then with a surge of adrenaline, he leapt from his chair to pull Len from the table too, and hurried them toward the balcony door, dragging Len behind him. The man had such an amazing, _deep_ laugh. "Quick, before it starts to rain! I have such a great view from here. Look," he pointed to the perfect gap in the cityscape between the lights of Smoak Industries and Palmer Tech where there was nothing but _sky_ and flash after flash of lightning sparkling in the dark. "These are my favorite kinds of storms. Isn't it beautiful?"

Barry was so transfixed watching the skyline, he didn't feel Len's gaze on him until he heard, "Breathtaking," and realized Len wasn't looking at the storm.

The heat filling Barry's face made it impossible to acknowledge the comment. When he finally dared to sneak a peek, Len had turned forward again, his face lit intermittently by bursts of light.

They stood on the balcony a while, taking in the storm, the natural lightshow in the middle of a glowing city, quiet but comfortable in each other's company—until another rumble of thunder heralded the start of the rain showers and they ducked back inside.

It was perfect and romantic and made Barry giggle when Len reached to take off his glasses for him since they were speckled with raindrops. Barry took them back and set them on the end table rather than wipe them clean.

"Can we…umm…"

"Barry," Len said, low and quiet like a purr, "you don't have to be nervous to ask for anything you want."

That just made Barry shiver harder. Taking a breath, he focused on Len's features that were slightly softened when he wasn't wearing his glasses. "Can we undress like last time but stay out here and lay on the sofa to watch the storm?"

The way Len looked at Barry made him certain the other man wanted to undress him himself, but even if Len was merely talented at playing a role and making Barry feel wanted, he knew he'd lose his nerve if he allowed that. So he smiled when Len nodded, and backed toward the sofa to undress on his own. Len didn't do as much of a striptease this time, but when he was down to his underwear, he laid back and beckoned for Barry to join him.

Crushed between Len and the inside of the sofa as he laid half on top of him, which Barry _loved_ , he settled into the snug contact as they watched the lightning dance between the clouds.

"Thank you for this," he said.

"You don't need to thank me, Barry. This is what I'm here for."

"This isn't what you normally do though, right?"

"True. I don't have other clients like you." Len hugged Barry closer, fingers trailing up and down his arm in soothing motions.

"So… _thank you_."

"You're welcome."

It was only later, when they'd dressed and Len was leaving, that Barry realized he'd never asked what codename Len had given to him.

* * *

Len's schedule remained tight the next two weeks, but he always made time for Barry. When he took on a regular, he was only obligated to see them once a week, some he saw closer to once a month per their own requests, but Barry asked for him nearly every other day, and even when Len had something else going on, he tried to accommodate Barry first.

It wasn't charity or pity. Seeing Barry more often was smart business and relaxing for Len in ways no other client could provide. It was self-care as much as for Barry's benefit. Len also enjoyed a challenge, and Barry's wardrobe was certainly that. He'd done well with Carter, but he needed several more staples to round out his closet, including something stylish for the fundraiser and other upcoming events.

Len picked out a burgundy three-piece suit for him that would make heads turn for sure, which Barry had protested until he saw himself in it with the first few pins in place to help it hug his frame.

"Are you sure? This isn't too… _flashy_? What will you wear?"

"Something more muted. You're the bell of the ball, Barry. The point is to make you stand out, and I'm merely an accessory."

"That's not very nice."

"It's not about nice, it's about playing the crowd. Trust me. A little drama will make a more lasting impression."

Barry would be wearing his new glasses as well, a gold pair like he'd wanted that was more fitting for fancy nights out.

Most evenings Len spent in Barry's company they stayed in and made dinner. A few times Len took Barry out—though Barry always paid. Occasionally, they looked through Barry's furniture magazine or new ones Len brought over so he could finish decking out his apartment with artwork and accents.

There was one larger piece Len had pointed out that Barry immediately purchased, an impressive print with bold swaths of color, mostly blue and silver in the center with purple and reds along the edges, "Like a snowstorm in a forest fire," Barry had said, eyes glittering.

The kid had a good eye when he trusted himself to use it, but it warmed Len how easily Barry took to his suggestions without shying from letting him know when he didn't like something.

The print was the centerpiece of Barry's living room wall now.

Whenever they were together, every meeting always ended with clothes shed and close contact snuggled on the bed or sofa. Never more than that, but there was never an encounter without it. Barry hadn't cried since the first night, but he clung to Len sometimes like he couldn't anchor himself without him. Len had to be careful not to become a crutch Barry wouldn't be able to move on from.

The fundraiser was swiftly approaching, which would help get Barry's feet wet to better ease into his new life, but it also put them in the public eye together. Assuming Barry would be nervous over this, Len had prepared the perfect cover if he didn't want to pass Len off as his boyfriend.

"My publicist?"

"I'll be playing that role to some extent anyway, and no one will bat an eye."

"What if people think I'm _dating_ my publicist?"

"No one will bat an eye at that either," Len said. "They'll think you audacious. Then they'll meet you and fall for your charms. Your good work will only bolster their impressions after that."

Given how in demand Barry was and how much he was worth, he needed a publicist anyway. Who better than Len, who knew exactly how to handle these sorts of people?

Len had blocked off his schedule for the fundraiser the moment Barry invited him, but he'd been considering clearing the day after as well in case the evening ran long. Sara had called him into the office today to rearrange his scheduling anyway, so he planned to see if _Narcissus_ would be willing to push things back a day this week.

Before he could make the request, however, Sara handed him dismissal papers.

"Narcissus is removing _himself_ from the roster? What for?"

Sara shrugged from where she sat behind her desk. "He and his ex are giving it another go. He sends his best. Left you a hefty bonus for the short notice. Shall I get you back in the catalog to fill the slot?"

"No," Len said before he realized how quickly the response had left him. Giving himself a moment to consider _what_ he was thinking, he distracted himself by signing the forms.

"No?" Sara pressed when he didn't elaborate.

"I've been extra spent lately. Scarlet is a demanding client." Len hadn't told Sara or anyone outside of Mick what he and Barry got up to when they met, but she couldn't deny his full schedule lately.

"Demanding, huh?" She eyed him when he handed the forms back to her like she could read between every line he ever used as deflection. "And he looks so unassuming in that selfie."

"I never kiss and tell," Len smirked, considering him and Barry had never kissed. "Send him a note so he knows I'm free the day after the fundraiser."

"In case he wants you to spend the night?"

Len hadn't considered that, but now that Sara had mentioned it, he wondered. "Make the offer, but don't push if he doesn't bite. I'm sure Rip won't mind me reducing my client load given the amount of days Scarlet's been booking me."

"Your call, Leonard."

Technically, Len had the space to add another client, due to the infrequency of The Godfather, and weekly-only meetings with Prince and Piper, but the idea of adding anyone new didn't sit well with him, and he always went with his gut.

If Barry took advantage of his more open schedule, Len certainly wouldn't mind.

* * *

Barry had been sleeping restlessly for days, he was so excited for the fundraiser, mostly to get the first of these events out of the way, though he was thankful Len would be with him.

His work had been paying off with his side project for Ray, enough that they planned to bring the idea to Felicity at the event, sort of like a friendly ambush, which seemed like a normal occurrence for the head of Palmer Tech. From then on things were going to pick up as the police program went live soon too.

Grinning at his newest email, Barry wondered if he should agree to book Len to stay the night after the fundraiser. He was free the next day now, and it was going to be a late night anyway. Barry would need decompression time, and Len's arms were the ideal place to accomplish that. It wasn't that much extra to keep him until morning. Barry knew how to budget his time with Len so it was hardly a detriment to his finances.

He worried about his self-control sometimes when Len was wrapped around him. It was easy to forget that he wasn't allowed to _kiss_. Well, he _was_. He could have. He could change the nature of their time together with a single request. But that would ruin everything. The next time Barry kissed someone, he didn't want it to be business, even if Len was a good friend and the most alluring man Barry had ever had in his bed.

Maybe their relationship wasn't only business to Len, but Barry knew better than to get his hopes up. Len was a _temporary_ balm to ease the wounds Barry had suffered, not a permanent solution to his loneliness.

He was mid-sentence typing a response to Len's handler that yes, he _would_ keep Len through the night, when another email populated. Wondering if it might be an update from the agency, he clicked on the new message without finishing his draft.

It wasn't from _Nick of Time Escort Service_ or Len's direct account. It was from _Harrison_ , with a blank subject line and the simple message:

 _I miss you. Can we talk?_

Barry slammed his laptop closed.

* * *

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

Barry didn't believe in violence unless there was no other option—partially because, up until a couple weeks ago, he didn't know how to throw a punch. His trainer from the Wildcat Gym was teaching him more than basic self-defense, which Barry had been thriving off of since his first lesson, even though the last thing he wanted was to punch someone's teeth in one day.

Especially when, today, he couldn't stop picturing Harrison's face.

"Watch your form, Barry," Laurel said, holding the punching bag tightly as he pummeled it. "Good. Much better. I think this is the first day I haven't had to tell you to go harder."

Barry huffed, half out of breath and half in laughter. "Yeah, I…have a lot of pent up energy today."

"Use it," she said, smiling supportively, her blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, face sheened with sweat like his. She was the type of girl who cleaned up like a dream but had biceps bigger than Barry's. If he liked women, he would have had a serious crush on her. "Nice. Stop there. Let's do a few more defense moves before we call it a day."

Barry had been seeing Laurel three to five times a week, usually in the mornings before work. His previous experience in Central City meant he recalled the basics quickly enough, so she'd asked if he wanted to include additional training. Barry was glad he'd accepted. The workout cleared his mind before heading to the office, and successfully learning or completing a new move made him feel like he could take on anything.

Maybe even his ex, who'd risen like a zombie from the grave with his recent messages— _plural_.

The updates Barry had been making to his wardrobe meant he had been using old T-shirts for workout clothes, today being his favorite Spider-Man shirt and a pair of sweats. The gym itself wasn't anything too large, more for personal training like he was doing or sparring of various fighting styles. Barry liked watching the kick-boxing matches most.

He and Laurel had a corner of the gym all to themselves. Moving to the center of their mat, he stood normally rather than in a fighting stance.

"Most attacks won't come when you expect them," had been Laurel's first lesson.

She came at him from the front and Barry deflected. Came from the side, and he twisted her to the floor. Came from behind, and he flipped her over his shoulder. All these moves were practiced now and simple enough to execute, because he knew what was coming.

"A couple more from each side," she said, but as Barry readied himself, trying to gauge which side she'd attack from next, she didn't make the move he anticipated but went straight for his _left arm_.

Barry seized up when her hands took hold of him, tensing all over, breath coming short, as he tried to remember how to counter being grabbed this way but he couldn't _think_ —and then he was on his ass.

His bruises were minor compared to what his ego just suffered.

"What do I keep saying, Barry?" Laurel said as she hefted him back to his feet.

"I know. I have to be able to counter even when you don't warn me."

The owner of the gym had encouraged Barry to be honest about his reasoning for training when he was assigned to Laurel, and Barry had admitted much more than he expected to the kind woman who lent an ear as easily as she knocked him around the mats. Barry's main goal was to overcome the sensitivity associated with his left arm, not just to defend himself in a big city. When they'd first started sparring, she always warned him before attacking that part of him, but not anymore.

"You'll get there. Being vigilant for something that catches you off guard isn't easy."

Barry nodded, thinking of what his mother used to say. "Meet every surprise in life like you had a plan all along."

"Sound advice," Laurel gently took his arm and squeezed reassuringly, part of the training, to always give positive attention after he'd been thrown into panic mode.

"Too bad I suck at following it," Barry said.

"You're one of my fastest improving students, Barry. Don't be so hard on yourself. I see a lot of abuse victims who want to push past their trauma. It can take months to be where you want to be. You've improved incredibly after only a couple weeks."

"I'm not really an abuse victim," Barry shifted his gaze to the floor. "It was only one time, one injury—"

"Barry, trauma isn't measured by _quantity_ ," Laurel said firmly, drawing his eyes back to hers. "And abuse can be more than an injury. Your experience is no less valid than anyone else's. That's why you're here, right?"

"Right."

"Then let's go again." She squeezed his arm once more before releasing it.

The chime of Barry's cell phone against the wall drew his attention. He hated being _that guy_ , but tonight was the fundraiser and he kept waiting for something to go wrong. "One sec," he said in apology and dashed over to check his messages.

It was another email—from _Harrison_.

 _Please, Barry. Just one phone call._

Deleting the message like the others, Barry took Laurel's advice and channeled his anxiety into something he could use. He ended up on his ass again after rejoining her on the mat, but he wasn't deterred.

"Again."

* * *

Len didn't always have expensive taste, sometimes all he wanted was a burger and a chocolate shake like everybody else, but today he was taking Mick out for something lavish.

"Thought I owed _you_ next meal," Mick said as they waited for their table. This place had the best steak in Star City, and since Len didn't want to eat much before the fundraiser tonight, he needed a hearty lunch.

"You do, but today I feel like celebrating." Taking out his cell phone, he showed Mick his most recent text thread from Lisa.

Balloons and confetti emojis accompanied the message: _Dad didn't make parole._

"I'll drink to that," Mick snorted. " _Fuck_ your old man. What was he in for again?"

"Trying to fence stolen goods—to an undercover detective."

" _Shit_. Not even a good thief, huh?"

"Not a good anything."

Len had left Central City before his father went to jail, but he'd happily declined being a character witness when the request came through.

His father staying behind bars wasn't the only reason he had to celebrate though. It had been a few days since he'd last seen Barry, and he hadn't shown off his suit for the event yet. Besides being muted to complement Barry's burgundy look, Len was shooting for jaw-dropping again.

"What's that you said back to Lisa?" Mick asked before Len could put his phone away. They weren't surrounded by many other patrons, only a few on the benches in the entryway while they stood off to the side, enjoying the dark intimacy of the place even with the noon sun glaring down outside.

"Just that if she grabs a drink tonight, she could try a place called _Impulse_."

"How do you know bars in Central anymore?" Mick asked in surprise.

"It's Scarlet's sister's," Len said as If that should be of no consequence. "If she's as talented in her profession as he is in his, Lisa will thank me for the recommendation."

Mick eyed him as if there was something left unsaid—which there _wasn't_. Not that he'd admitted to himself yet anyway. "You still playin' vanilla with this kid?"

"I am a slave to my client's wishes, Mick," Len gave a mocking bow.

"He not interested in that sorta thing?"

"He's interested, just…damaged." And far too good a man to be as damaged as he was. "Looking for something he can't get elsewhere, that's all."

A smirk played at Mick's lips. "It's like you got yerself a housewife you go home to while you see yer mistresses on the side."

"Don't call him a _housewife_ ," Len frowned. "And the difference is, he knows about my mistresses and doesn't care."

"Some married couples are like that," Mick shrugged.

"You got a client with that arrangement?" Len said, then recalled an earlier conversation. "Oh right, _Frost_ , wasn't it?" Named for being an ice queen in conversation, not frigid between the sheets.

"Nah," Mick shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced away, "I was wrong about her. Thought she was two-timin' her husband, but turns out he's not in the picture anymore."

"Divorcee?"

"Widow."

Len took pause at that. Mick's voice rarely dropped to such a gentle timber. "Sounds more personal than you like to get. Something I'm missing?"

"She's a good client," Mick snapped with a sharp turn of his head, "whadda ya pushin' for?"

Mick _liked_ her. That was new. "Karma is a funny thing, my friend," Len snickered.

"The hell's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Len's name being called for them to be taken to their table saved him from having to explain. "Nothing. Come on, Mick. Let me buy you a beer."

The way this day was going so far, Len had nothing but optimism for the evening ahead.

* * *

Barry kept telling himself that it would not be preferable to spontaneously combust, but between Harrison stalking him and the imminent fundraiser, he was certain something would implode.

He'd showered after his training that morning, but he'd still had the urge to be _cleaner_ after work before he changed into his suit. Running later than intended, he figured his hair would refuse to cooperate anyway so why did it matter?

His phone chimed, catching his attention from the bathroom. Barry hurried out to check it still wearing only a towel and wondered briefly if anyone could see him through his windows. There was an email from Len sent a few minutes ago, saying he was on his way, but the newest message was _Harry_ again.

 _I'm so proud of you, Barry. I want to know how you're doing in Star City. Please answer me._

Barry had been trying so hard to stay strong, but he could only take so much whittling at his resolve. Sinking down at the desk, he held his phone tightly in both hands while staring at his closed laptop. He'd barely opened it the past few days, as if it mattered whether he saw these messages there instead of on his phone.

He had to get up and finish getting ready before Len arrived, but for all his bolstering and forced bluster, he felt nailed to the spot.

Would it be so terrible if he answered, even if just to tell Harrison to leave him alone?

The phone ringing nearly toppled Barry out of the chair.

"Cisco?" he answered.

"Hey, Barr, it's me."

" _Eddie_."

Iris had probably told him to call. She and Cisco were more the psychic ones when it came to his wellbeing, not that Eddie hadn't been there for Barry on numerous occasions. He'd just known Eddie a shorter timeframe, and Eddie was far less invasive than the other two.

"I've been trying to stay calm but I am _freaking out right now_ ," Barry said. "I don't know what to do, Eddie. What should I do?"

"Calm down, Barry. What's going on?"

"You know what's going on. You can't tell me Iris hasn't filled you in."

There was a pause before Eddie came back guiltily, "Okay, she has, but I thought maybe you'd want to start over like I didn't already know."

"Not really."

Eddie took a breath. "Harry's being a dick."

"He's messaged me ten times in _two days_ ," Barry sagged into the chair. "How did he get my new email address? I changed everything. Got a new number. Even moved to a new city. Why does he have to do this now?"

"To get exactly this reaction, Barr," Eddie said with endless understanding and patience, "because everyone knows how well you're doing without him. I just wish you had someone there with you."

A knock at the door startled Barry even more than his ringing phone had, succeeding in upsetting him from the chair, though he managed to stumble to his feet. "Um, just a sec!" he called. It had to be _Len_.

"Who's that?" Eddie asked, as Barry stood frozen with indecision between hanging up the call, going to the door, and heading to his bedroom to put on clothes. "Wait, _do_ you have someone? Iris didn't mention anything—"

"Iris doesn't know."

A pregnant pause replied before Eddie said, "Oh, Barr, don't tell me that."

"It's nothing bad," Barry said, keeping his voice low, still immobile in the middle of his apartment, "it's…an escort I pay to spend time with me, which was sort of Iris's idea in the first place, but don't tell her I hired him and have been spending almost every night with him."

This time the pause on the other end lasted a good ten seconds before Eddie answered, "You remember I have no ability to lie to my wife, right? I crumble, Barr, humiliatingly. I'm almost as bad of a liar as _you_."

That would have been a jab if it wasn't true.

"You're sleeping with a prostitute?" Eddie hissed.

"He's not a prostitute," Barry defended, then had to admit, "I mean, he is technically, but I'm not sleeping with him. We just have dinner and talk and cuddle on the sofa. It's…totally pathetic, please don't tell Iris."

"Barry? Is everything okay?" Len's voice called through the apartment door.

"Just one more second!" Barry called back before lowering his voice again. "Eddie, I need him right now. He makes things easier, all this mess with Harry, I...I feel like I can handle it when he's around, but if Iris knows, she'll want to _talk_ about it, and I just can't do that right now."

"Cisco doesn't know either?" Eddie asked.

"Not yet. Just please? Tell her I have friends who are helping and I'm trying to stay calm. I won't let Harry get to me. I won't answer his emails. I'll be fine."

"Okay, Barr," Eddie said with some reluctance, "but I'm calling again tomorrow after this fundraiser thing to make sure you're doing better, got it?"

"Thanks, Eddie," Barry sighed in relief, finally starting to trudge toward the door. "I gotta go."

"Love you, pal. Never forget that."

"Love you too."

Barry hung up just as he yanked the door open, not really remembering he was practically naked and not wearing his glasses until he saw the way Len's eyes raked down his body.

"Sorry!" he huffed in a fluster of shortened breath, taken just as off guard by Len's appearance because his suit was simple and sharp but _all_ _black_ —jacket, slacks, shirt, and tie—and he was wearing black-framed _glasses_ as if he'd stolen them right out of Barry's bathroom.

* * *

"You're wearing glasses," Barry gaped at him.

Len hardly thought _his_ appearance was the focal point right now. "You're wearing a towel," he pointed out.

Instantly, Barry became more self-conscious, despite having seen each other in their underwear for weeks. "Right! Sorry. I...uhh..." He started to back up, abandoning his open doorway.

Something was wrong. Taking the initiative to enter and close the door behind him, Len took stock of Barry's appearance more carefully and noticed the phone clutched in his hand. "What happened?"

" _Nothing_." Barry's eyes darted to the phone before he brought it to his chest like hiding a piece of evidence. "My brother-in-law. It's fine. I just—"

"Barry—"

"I'm sorry I'm not dressed yet—"

"We have plenty of time for you to get dressed. What's _wrong_?"

A deep breath left Barry and he shook his head, not to deny Len an answer but as if he needed to shrug off the automatic response to keep his troubles to himself. Bringing his phone up, he started furiously swiping through screens, which confused Len at first until Barry suddenly thrust the phone at him.

Gently accepting it, Len looked down to discover Barry's email inbox staring at him, which was currently filled with message after message from the same man—Harrison Wells. The nature of the emails made it obvious who he was.

"This is him?" Len asked anyway.

Barry nodded, a tall, lanky bundle of tension with distress all over his face. "He got my new email somehow. He won't leave me alone. It's just so…I-I _c-can't_ …"

Len projected his movements as best he could when he moved forward so Barry had all the time in the world to slink away, but when the kid didn't so much as flinch, Len hooked an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.

"What did he do to you?" he asked what he'd been holding back for weeks.

Barry choked on the tears he'd been trying to keep down and sank eagerly against him. "He's in my head," he said in answer, "and I can't _stand it_. I keep having to tell myself not to respond to him, when I know even thinking about that is insane."

It had taken Len years to get past the same thing with his father, past not being able to help loving someone but still knowing they're toxic. "Come here," he said, pulling Barry to the sofa to sit him down. After placing the cell phone on the coffee table, Len hugged Barry to his side, head tucked in the crook of his shoulder, because he knew how much easier it was to talk about these things without having to look at someone. "You can tell me if you want. _Only_ if you want."

Another breath shuddered out of Barry to stifle his tears as he sat at Len's side with damp hair and a towel around his waist. "I feel so weak acting like this. I've been better. I've felt so much stronger. I hate that he can still do this to me."

"You are strong," Len said. "He doesn't have power over you, Barry, other than what you give him."

"I know. But he did have power over me. For a long time."

Slowly, as Barry eased into describing the relationship that led up to the night he left his ex for good, Len pictured it all unfolding like a vivid movie in his mind, with Harrison unfairly taking on the visage of Len's father.

Cutting words to bring Barry down, but not blatant, more underhanded and passive, which made them dig so much deeper for their subtlety.

Kind words and touches only when it suited him.

An easily ignited temper, while being just as quick to apologize and make promises he never followed through on.

Making Barry feel worthless while he took the kid's research for his own.

Knowing how and when to give Barry a night all about him so he felt wanted and stirred to passion.

Then night after night without tenderness, _taking_ until he was satisfied.

It's no wonder Len's mother had left a similar man, but Len pushed those thoughts aside, because this wasn't about him. He was here for Barry, and he wanted to be everything Barry needed him to be in ways his father had always told him he _failed_ at.

 _You're not good enough._

 _You'll_ never _be good enough._

Barry heard the same mantra, and it infuriated Len to be on the outside looking in.

"He'd never been violent before," Barry said, softer now, but speaking freely, "just broke me down, little by little, years of being only good enough for him to keep me. Then after he'd get upset and lash out and needed to apologize, suddenly I was the best thing that ever happened to him.

"I'd been saving up the energy to give him an ultimatum for weeks. He'd gotten home late and was all over me. I said I wasn't interested, that I wanted to _talk_ , but he kept pushing, kept trying to touch me and shut down the conversation, so I said if he wouldn't stop and listen then I was leaving.

"He…g-grabbed my arm to keep me against the wall, said I couldn't just _leave_. I told him I couldn't do this anymore, but the more I struggled, the more things escalated—him yelling and squeezing my arm, me begging him to listen and let me go. He shook me and twisted my arm like he didn't care how much he was hurting me.

"I finally wrenched out of his grip, pulling so hard, I tripped and dislocated my elbow because he _wouldn't let go_. My forearm hurt worse though. Stress fracture, I just didn't know it yet.

"He changed like a switch being flipped. All of a sudden, he was so sorry, swearing he'd make it up to me, that he'd make everything up to me, like he always said, like he always _lied_. I don't remember grabbing anything or leaving the apartment. It was a haze until I got to my sister's.

"Harry tried for weeks after that to talk to me, but Iris is pretty protective, and every time I wanted to cave, she asked if I really wanted to go back to him. I didn't. I haven't seen him since. He wasn't my direct boss, so he couldn't fire me. I worked from home until I left Star Labs.

"It had finally _stopped_ ," Barry said with more force, for once betraying anger more than grief or fear. "Then I moved and thought I could put all this behind me. Now he's back, and I c-can't…" But even anger could dissolve into tears, and Barry sniffled as he pressed his face to Len's side. "I'm sorry. You smell so good, and I'm crying all over your suit."

Len chuckled fondly, forever caught off guard by how sweet this boy could be. "I'm fine, Barry. And you will be too. Do you want to skip tonight?"

"I _can't_."

"Then how about we take our time getting you relaxed and ready, and at worst, we'll be fashionably late?" Reaching with the hand not secured around Barry's waist, he tentatively slipped his fingers up Barry's forearm—the _left_ arm he favored, which was obviously the one Harrison had hurt. It had to be a sign of Barry's trust in Len that he snuggled closer rather than withdrawing. "Would you like me to _help you_ relax?"

"I-I don't…" Barry went promptly rigid.

"I mean a massage, Barry."

"Oh. That…that could be nice. Sorry."

"You don't need to apologize. Here. Face the window. It's a nice night."

Helping Barry sit up, Len guided him to turn toward the cityscape, giving him the chance to reign in his tears before they faced each other again. Maybe he was projecting, but he knew how maddening it could be to have someone see you cry.

The tension in Barry's shoulders was _criminal_. Harrison Wells had done a number on him, in the past and in the past few days, using only a handful of emails to crumble the pieces of Barry's self-worth that he had fit back together while rebuilding his life. The least Len could offer was the firm press of his fingers into Barry's taut muscles—since he couldn't drive to Central City and punch Harrison in the jaw. Not tonight anyway.

The impromptu massage was made all the easier by Barry already being naked from the waist up. He was the one who smelled divine, like fresh mint from his shower.

"You are a remarkable man, Barry," Len said, circling his thumbs deeply along Barry's shoulder blades and spider-walking fingers up his neck. Every so often, the most delicious whimper would leave him. "Selfless, intelligent, _beautiful_. And so brave."

"Brave?" Barry said skeptically, then gasped when Len found a stubborn knot.

"You came to a new city," Len said, keeping his voice low to be more soothing, "dropped yourself in the middle of the unknown with a whole new career and strangers all around you. _That_ is brave. You're also brave for leaving something that had gotten very good at drawing you back in."

Both hands firmly gripped the top of Barry's shoulders and squeezed, then worked down his arms. Len could see Barry in the reflection of the window in front of them, dim and indistinct, gaze unfocused even as he stared out at the city, but as young and fragile as he looked, there was something powerful in the rawness of him laid bare without his glasses.

"Sometimes…I feel like I ran away," Barry said.

Len had run once too, and he was happier for it. "Sometimes running is the brave thing, Barry."

There, at last, the stiffness in Barry's shoulders began to dissipate. They drooped, his neck lolling comfortably as he relished in Len's careful caresses. It was when he shifted how he was sitting to give Len better access down his spine that the towel loosened at his hip, falling open to reveal a pale peek of naked thigh.

If this was any other client, Len would have taken advantage of the opportune moment, but Barry wasn't _any other client_.

"Better get dressed now, Barry," he said, smoothing his hands up Barry's back and patting gently at his shoulders. "Your towel's come undone."

"What?" Barry glanced down, half dozing until he saw the exposed stretch of skin. "I'm sorry!" He twisted around to face Len rather than grab the edges, which caused the towel to slip further free, revealing the entirety of his thigh before he clambered to hold the cloth in place. Looking at Len with wide, clear eyes, regardless of the tears he'd shed, their faces were left dangerously close after all that scrambling.

Len's hands had fallen from Barry's skin, but he reached now to hold the boy's cheek and stroke his thumb along the skin like he had their first night together. _Scarlet_ colored Barry's skin.

"I sh-should…get ready."

"Mmm."

"Thank you," Barry said, placing his own hand over Len's, "for listening. I won't let him ruin tonight. You worked so hard to make sure I'll look like a grownup."

Laughter sputtered from Len's lips before he could stop it, and Barry soon tumbled into laughter with him. Both their hands dropped, and after grabbing onto his towel to keep it closed, Barry stood.

"I'll be quick. _Fashionably_ late."

"I'll be waiting," Len said.

It _was_ quick, considering the brief sound of a blow-drier and the faint swearing at unruly hair, before Barry returned in his burgundy suit. Clean-shaven, stylish gold glasses in place, he was the picture of youthful decadence, while being entirely wholesome deep down—just what Len had been going for to keep everyone at the fundraiser enamored.

"Are those real?" Barry asked, as if he'd forgotten he meant to inquire about Len's glasses the moment he arrived.

"I normally wear contacts, but yes. Not a fan?" Len adjusted them primly.

"They're _wonderful_ ," Barry gushed, restored and alive with energy. "You look really good in them."

Jaw-drop accomplished once again. "I thought I'd complement you better this way as part of your…payroll."

"My _publicist_ , you mean?"

"Exactly. Shall we?" Len offered his arm, which Barry took with a playful giggle. "Let's knock 'em dead, Scarlet."

"Scarlet?"

 _Shit_. Len hadn't meant to say that. He'd never tripped up and called a client by their codename or vice versa, unless he was talking with Sara over private channels. "I…um…"

"I like it!" Barry said, after his expression had gone from inquisitive to understanding to lighting up with delight. "It's not _wrong_. Especially not right now," he nodded at his _scarlet_ suit.

Len never should have worried. This kid had started by surprising him and continued to do so again and again. "You'll feel on top of the world tonight, Barry," Len said as he led him to the door, "I promise."

* * *

The fundraiser was at Star City Gardens, the type of venue people booked for their weddings. Barry was in awe the moment they stepped inside, easily ushered in since he was a premiere guest on the list.

The building itself was a several stories tall glass dome, like a greenhouse, filled with flowers and trees, and currently lined with tables around a wide open space for mingling by cocktail and snack bars in the center.

The event itself was to raise money for a charity close to Palmer Tech's heart, the Society for Cancer Cell Gene Therapy. Ray raised money for all sorts of similar charities since that was his nanotechnology's focus. He'd steered his company that direction after his wife only just barely survived cancer herself.

"Barry!" Ray practically pounced on them at the door. "Meet my wife, Anna. And who's this?" He turned immediately to take Len's hand, who naturally didn't fumble for a moment.

"Len Wynters, Barry's publicist. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Palmer."

"Please, call me Ray."

Barry was too flabbergasted by Ray's whirlwind to shake Anna's hand properly, though he offered a weak smile when he realized how flustered he was acting. "S-Sorry, I—"

"So nice to meet you, Barry," she saved him from a stuttering excuse. "Don't mind Ray. He catches everyone off guard like that. Champagne?" she nodded at a passing waiter, who paused long enough for them to each claim a glass.

Barry was thankful for alcohol in that moment. For as beautiful and large as the gardens were, the place was packed with hundreds of people, leaving barely any room to breathe every direction he looked. He wasn't used to being surrounded, no matter how fancy or vibrant the mob.

"I didn't realize you _had_ a publicist, Barry," Ray said, not suspicious, just inquisitive.

"I'm not good at this sort of thing by myself," Barry admitted; Len's lie was easy to maintain because most of what they told people would be the truth. "Everything will get so much more public and busy soon. I figured I needed the help."

"Smart thinking," Ray nodded. "Enjoy the party, Len. And Barry, just mingle and relax for now. I'll find you when it's a good time to spirit away our good friend Ms. Smoak." He winked before disappearing into the crowd, pulling his wife along beside him.

Barry took a healthy gulp from his champagne.

"Now let's see…" Len scanned the room like an apex predator looking for a thrill. "There are at least five people in my sightline that you'd benefit from meeting. Don't worry about a thing, Barry. I'll do all the introductions. You just have to smile and follow my lead. Ready?"

It was like the first day of school, the first day on a new job, a blind date, and being at the wrong end of a shooting gallery all at the same time. But Len's confidence and comforting grip on Barry's elbow pushed down some of the warring nerves in his stomach and made him feel like he could do this.

If he made a fool of himself, at least Len was there to sweep up the carnage.

"Ready."

Len didn't personally know any of the people they met, but he knew who they were by reputation, what circles they ran in, and where Barry's work might be of interest. He insinuated himself so smoothly, drawing Barry forward to introduce him and picking up on sentences Barry dropped due to nervousness as if their playing off of each other had been planned, overall making Barry feel so at ease that he was soon holding his own just fine.

Len's hand was always there to support him, at his elbow or the small of his back, replacing his champagne with a fresh glass or snagging him an hors d'oeuvre. He was so charming, everyone took to him and gave Barry their attention that much more because of it. No real publicist could have done better at their client's side.

Oliver was there with Felicity, the type of event neither could afford to miss. By the time Barry and Len circled the floor and happened upon the mayor and CEO, Barry was the one hurrying forward to make introductions.

"I thought Barry seemed to be settling in better," Oliver said as he patted Len's arm. "Good to see he hired someone. Would I know any of your other clients?"

"More than likely," Len said, but didn't elaborate.

The evening was a resounding success, especially when Ray timed his ambush to right when Barry was in Felicity's company and they stole her away together, leaving Len to chat with Oliver and Anna. Len hardly seemed put out in the company of the mayor and a woman who Barry had heard was on every non-profit board in the city.

They pitched their idea to Felicity, with Barry apologizing profusely for going around her. He held it together though, since he could back the plan with workable models, enough that even though she gave Ray a look like they were high school glee club rivals and he'd just hit a high note she couldn't ignore, she agreed to a formal meeting the following week.

"You're more opportunistic than I expected, Barry. Good job."

"Uh…thanks!"

Ray insisted on getting Felicity a stronger drink to celebrate, but Barry excused himself to rescue Len—or so he said, even if he actually just missed the man's company. It wasn't as daunting making his way through the throng as it might have been when they first arrived. A few people smiled who Barry had already met, and some new people stopped him to introduce themselves but were quick to let him move on.

Oliver and Anna were being pulled different directions when Barry spotted Len, which seemed to spotlight him in the aftermath of their departure, making it that much easier for Barry to take in how handsome he looked. The evening really was like a dream, exciting and fun and _perfect_.

Until Barry saw Harrison over Len's shoulder, watching them from afar.

Terror spiked through his veins like a shot of adrenaline, halting his breath and forward momentum instantly.

But it _wasn't_ Harrison. It was just a man about his same age and height and coloring, who happened to be looking Barry's direction. So much for sloughing off the man's presence. He _could_ be banished though and one day forgotten, Barry believed that, especially when Len turned and their eyes met across the room.

"You okay?" he asked when Barry reached him.

"Fine. The pitch went _great_ , I'm just losing my mind a little. I noticed someone watching me and thought it was Harrison."

Len peered over his shoulder to see who Barry meant, but instead of coming back with a smirk and a tale about who the man was and how he was another competitor of Palmer and Smoak hoping to steal Barry away, his expression went cold. "He's not looking at you, Barry."

"A client?" Barry whispered in dismay.

" _Former_ , or I'd have kept that information to myself, but this one I don't trust. I better head this off. Will you be alright?" Len turned to Barry fully to cater to him first, even though he was clearly the troubled one this time.

A minute ago, Barry would have believed he _would_ be fine, but after seeing a ghost from his past who turned out to be a ghost from Len's, he wasn't so sure anymore.

"Hey, Barry!" Curtis's voice cut through the din.

Whirling around, Barry saw the tall, dark man approaching with a slighter, smiling man beside him.

"I can finally introduce you to Paul," he brought his husband forward. "See, not a figment of my imagination. He really is this handsome," Curtis beamed.

Barry had to laugh as he took Paul's hand. "Hi! And here I was certain Curtis was exaggerating. Nice to meet you, Paul." The tension eased with Curtis and Paul's arrival, though the touch of Len's hand at Barry's hip helped even more.

"Sorry to slip away, gentlemen," Len nodded to the pair. "Barry, I'll be right back. Then you can introduce me to your friends. Okay?"

"O-Okay," Barry said, but even though he mourned the loss of Len, he was more worried for _him_.

* * *

Merlin stood beside an imported and impressive palm tree that had been cleverly hiding him from most people's view while he watched Len. He was a stock trader by day, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing shady, or at least not any shadier than several other businessmen here. He was attractive, all things considered—dark hair, expensive suit, sly smirk. He waited for Len with that smirk in place while sipping on champagne.

Of all the potential clients, past or present, who might have showed up tonight, Merlin was the only one Len considered trouble.

"The new blood's cute, Leonard. A little young though, don't you think?"

"Hardly the youngest on my calendar," Len said. The Godfather was twenty-two, and Piper wasn't much older than Barry.

Insinuating himself beside Merlin to keep the conversation private, with a wall at their backs and the large palm beside them, Len and his undesirable companion had one of the better views in the room.

"I hope your lawyer is in attendance," he added as he watched the crowd.

Merlin chuckled, hardly an easy man to intimidate. About Len's same height and a few years older, he exuded confidence in everything he did. "Calm down, Leonard, I'm not here to make a scene. I was invited."

"I'm sure you were."

"I'm hurt, of course, that you decided to end our time together. You were…exceptional," he cast a telling gaze down Len's body. "But I understand. What I don't understand is why you thought it necessary to black ball me from the entire agency."

Len reveled a little in the bitterness in the man's tone. "I don't know what you mean," he said, taking a drink from his own recently replaced glass.

"Everyone I attempt to book is 'unavailable'," Merlin sneered. "I know when I'm being given the runaround. I've been flagged."

"There are plenty of other agencies in Star City," Len dismissed. "Pester one of them."

"I prefer yours."

" _Pity_ then," Len looked at him sharply. "We're rather full up these days."

The laughter from Merlin was menacing now, amazed at Len's daring. "You think you're so untouchable because I signed a contract? Whispers are hard to prove, but can be so damaging." He looked out at the crowd once more, focusing none too subtly on _Barry_. "Especially when someone is young and uninitiated in these shark-infested waters."

"You don't want to play that game, Malcolm," Len used the man's real name with venom in his tone. "That man is poised to be a far more powerful player than you could ever be, with very powerful friends."

Merlin stood unmoved by the returned threat. "It's still early. Who knows what could make someone like that topple. But it's adorable how protective you are," he grinned and leaned in close to Len with an intimate air. "Do you fancy this a date, Leonard? How sweet. But at the end of the night, you're still a _whore_. You might forget that, but he won't."

Len didn't get hung up on that word. He knew what most people thought, no matter how comfortable he was in his own skin. He didn't _care_ what other people thought of him. But as he glanced across the room to find Barry in the crowd, he knew there was one man's opinion he'd started to care about more than he should.

"Don't worry, I'll leave the boy alone," Merlin said, downing the last of his champagne. "He doesn't have to worry about _me_. Have a nice night now."

The words lingered after Merlin had walked away like smoke thick enough to choke on.

Len moved back toward Barry eventually but at a slow pace to gather his walls around him and not make it too obvious how much Merlin had shaken him. He must have failed though, because Barry immediately leaned over and whispered, "Are you okay?"

"Not a nice man," Len whispered back, "but harmless. Forget him. I want you to enjoy tonight." He hoped he was right about Merlin, but now wasn't the time to worry.

Barry, for his part, nodded to appease Len but still betrayed a shadow of concern.

"So…" the taller of the couple Barry had been chatting with smiled congenially. "Barry's publicist?"

The rest of the evening continued as if there hadn't been a single hiccup. Len didn't spot Merlin in the crowd again, but he itched to whisk Barry away, fearing now more than ever that enemies might be waiting in the wings.

There was more champagne and cocktails and food. Barry donated a respectable amount to the cause. They stuck close to the Holts from then on, Curtis and Paul, which was just as well because Curtis and Barry clearly made a good match for friends. Eventually, when things started to wind down, Len and Barry snuck outside to find a cab without making a big deal over their departure.

Barry rested his head against Len's shoulder during the ride back to his apartment. There was a toll that had been taken on them. Len thrived off of being the center of attention, but for Barry it was draining. And both of them had been drained by sinister men and their schemes.

It was a relief to shed their eye glasses and their suits, to crawl into bed and snuggle close like they were a normal, _real_ couple. It wasn't real. It wasn't a date—it was Len's _job_. But it plagued him how much he wished that could be different.

"Thank for you tonight," Barry said, though he'd thanked Len plenty already.

"My pleasure, Barry. Any time."

"How long can you stay tomorrow?"

"How long do you want me?"

The pause made Len wonder what Barry _truly_ wanted to say. "We can get breakfast? Then I should do some work before lunch."

"Whatever you need."

Len had taken Barry on as a client to help them both with their needs, but what he wanted now was getting harder to deny.

* * *

Barry woke the next morning sluggish but content to find a familiar face in his bed and strong arms wrapped around him. When Len blinked awake as well, blue eyes hypnotic and so kind, Barry recalled the question from last night.

" _How long do you want me?"_

It wounded him that he could never tell Len the truth.

* * *

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

Deploying the new police program felt like sending a child off to school for the first time. Barry was protective, nervous, and constantly checking in to make sure everything was going smoothly.

To some extent, it was out of his hands now. Models needed to take in live data to be adjusted, so nothing could be done until a few weeks went by with the boys in blue out in the field per Barry's new guidelines. Then, as real-world situations played out, his team could reevaluate and shift officer deployment accordingly, especially if crime went down in one area because more police were around, but then increased in others because the criminals changed course.

Which was what Barry expected to happen. It would be a constantly moving target that his models were built to adjust for automatically, someone just needed to be paying attention to react.

There were a few protests around racial and class targeting the first week, which Oliver headed off by further explaining the training and equipment given out to ensure that didn't happen. If it ever started to look like any one group was being singled out, he would personally take responsibility for putting a stop to it. There was even a hotline for people to call in to report abuses.

The initial calls were false alarms and pranks, but taking the extra precaution added credibility and accountability to the program. Things were looking good; the officers were doing their jobs. Now what mattered was if the program worked and overall crime started to decline.

Because of the program's release, Barry was that much busier in the weeks following the fundraiser with events and interviews, along with his side project between Smoak Industries and Palmer Tech. Sometimes he asked Len to be his publicist date, sometimes they had quiet evenings in like before, but regardless of the nature of their time together, Barry kept adding more and more appointments for Len's company, even if just to have him there when he got home at night.

The messages from Harrison had stopped, but every time Barry's phone chimed or he checked his email, he wondered when the eye of the hurricane would be over and the storm would start anew—one he couldn't sit back and enjoy, but that would shake him to his core like being struck by lightning.

The one benefit to it all was that his training with Laurel had surpassed several more learning curves.

"Hey, Barry! Still on for this week?" Curtis caught him in the hallway on his way to—actually, he had to stop and think if he was going to Palmer Tech next, city hall, or just the bathroom. His life never seemed to slow down anymore.

"Of course!" Barry brightened, remembering he was having friends over for a game night, finally taking Curtis up on his offer from when he first started this adventure. "I can't believe everyone agreed on Greek. I've been wanting to order from that place down the street from my apartment for weeks."

"Awesome!" Curtis answered excitedly. "Will Len be there too?"

"Oh…" Barry clammed up, still caught off guard whenever someone asked about Len, though of course they would when he rarely attended an event without the other man's presence. "I don't know if that would be…appropriate?"

The truth was, Barry wanted nothing more than to invite Len along, but it was different from a normal night in or a busy night out that fit into Len's 'services' for Barry. It felt wrong to pay him for something that Barry ultimately only wanted him to attend if _he_ wanted to be there.

Len was a good friend, but the flow of money between them tainted the whole thing even though Barry knew it shouldn't. He shouldn't expect Len to shun him if the business side of their relationship wasn't involved. Len wasn't like that. And Barry would never take advantage or expect things from Len should they become _just_ friends someday.

But that was the problem. Where did the lines cross? What was acceptable and what wasn't when money had played such an important role in how they met? Barry could figure out complicated equations all day long, but this problem he hadn't solved yet.

"Because he's your publicist?" Curtis asked with a waggled eyebrow Barry didn't understand until the taller man leaned closer and whispered, "Or because he's your Julia Roberts?"

Barry's eyes widened, staring at Curtis, mouth agape, unsure how to respond other than blurting, "How did you know that?"

"I'm a statistician, Barry," Curtis grinned, not at all antagonistic in his countenance. "I did the math. I'm the one who saw you with that business card, remember? Plus, I also remember him from the _Nick of Time_ catalog. _Nice_ choice. I won't say anything!" he added quickly, no doubt reading the sheer terror on Barry's face. "It's cool. I told you I wouldn't judge about the escort thing, and I meant it. He's been _escorting_ you. That's what they do. Anyone can tell you're not sleeping together. Not that there'd be anything wrong if you were! I mean, aside from _legally_ …"

"I…really? It's that obvious?" Which was what Barry _wanted_. He didn't want people thinking he was sleeping with his publicist, taking advantage of him like a creepy executive, but at the same time, " _How_ obvious, because—"

"You could cut the UST with a butter knife, Barry."

"UST?"

"Unresolved sexual tension," Curtis rattled off as if that were common knowledge—maybe it was; Barry was never in the loop on these things. "If you _were_ sleeping together, that would have been resolved weeks ago. You want it to though, right? _Resolve_ ," he waggled an eyebrow again, setting any sense of subtlety aside. "He means something to you, I can tell, and not just because he makes an amazing publicist and looks good in a suit. Maybe he _is_ your _Pretty Woman_. Uhh…Pretty Man? _American Gigolo_?"

" _Stop_ ," Barry interrupted before Curtis could rattle off any more movie titles. "Things don't happen like that in real life, Curtis." No matter how much Barry might want them to. "It's messy and complicated and _not_ a movie plot. I need to stop relying on Len to feel comfortable." Despite not having the will or desire to let him go.

"Relying on him?" Curtis repeated with exaggerated disbelief. "You're kicking ass, Barry, or haven't you been paying attention? _You_. With Len _and_ when he's not around. He might have helped you get through a tough transition in your life, but you're doing fine. Maybe you honestly just _like_ him. Would that be so terrible?"

If Len didn't feel the same way, Barry couldn't imagine anything worse.

"Hey," Curtis grabbed his shoulder as if just then realizing how shell-shocked Barry was by the whole thing. "I'm prying and causing the program to reboot. You wanna grab lunch and pretend I wasn't being invasive of your personal life? I feel like we need some boyfriends time."

"Uhh…what?" Barry took a moment to process that— reboot indeed.

"Yeah…" Curtis said, drawing out the vowels, "that didn't translate as well as when women say 'girlfriends time' did it? Bro time? There we go." He snapped his fingers. "Bro lunch, Barry?"

Barry chuckled helplessly. Curtis had a knack for making him feel scrambled and then put back together in mere minutes. That's what he needed to do right now. Eat. "Bro lunch. Thanks, Curtis. That sounds perfect. And it's okay to pry into my personal life sometimes. If I didn't have good friends who did that sort of thing, I probably wouldn't _have_ a personal life," he joked—a little too seriously.

"Good. Not that last part, I mean…" Curtis shook his head at his own foot-in-mouth syndrome acting up. "I'm glad you see me as a friend, Barry. Come on. Let's go eat."

It had been so easy to let things continue on their natural course with Len, especially to further banish how Harrison had made Barry feel. But something had to give soon, and Barry wasn't sure what that something might be, he just knew he liked having Len around even when he didn't need him.

* * *

Len sat at his computer desk by the window, staring at his calendar and just how much of it was taken up by _Scarlet_. That's what he'd wanted. That's what he _still_ wanted. But what if he was holding Barry back from moving on with his life and truly healing?

There had always been the expectation that this was more temporary than Len's other regulars, but whenever he thought Barry might call things off, another evening got booked.

Len wasn't oblivious to being a stand-in for Barry's ex, a replacement that could fulfill needs Harrison had neglected. That didn't mean he wasn't valued in Barry's eyes as just _him_ , he never worried about that, Barry wasn't _like_ that. What Len worried about was whether this was healthy or the absolute worst thing for Barry right now.

Maybe it was the worst thing for _him_ too given how often his thoughts strayed to Barry.

Lisa's name blinked at Len from his cell phone, jarring him from his thoughts as it vibrated atop his desk.

"Someone's been busy," he said in greeting.

"Look who's talking," she jabbed back. "You're allowed to initiate calls too, ya know."

"I've had a full schedule lately. How you been, Lise?"

"Thankful for _Impulse_. It's my new favorite spot. The drinks are to _die_ for. Fantastic food too. If I'm five pounds heavier next time you're in town, it's all your fault."

Len chuckled. He and his sister shared the same tricky metabolism of putting on and taking off weight at the drop of a hat, which might seem like a blessing on the losing side, but the gaining part could be annoying. In Len's line of work, that meant constant upkeep.

"Did you meet the owner?" he asked offhandedly but genuinely curious. "Usually works the bar?"

"Maybe. Cute blond guy? Or dark-skinned knockout?"

"Both technically. They're married."

"Well that's just plain unfair," Lisa snorted. "Haven't been up at the bar as much as the dining area, but they seem nice. How do you know them?"

"I don't," Len said, recognizing the hole he'd walked into. "Just heard about the place from a friend."

"Lenny, you don't have friends."

"I have—"

"Mick and Sara, I know. Ever think of expanding?"

Len had more friends than Mick and Sara. Didn't he? Maybe he only had clients. Barry was a friend, but would they still be friends when their business relationship ended?

"Like I said, full schedule lately," Len tried to dismiss the topic.

"Mmm," Lisa hummed.

"What now?" he scowled at her, even if she couldn't see his face. "Think I sound listless again?"

"No. Now you sound conflicted, like you've found what your listlessness proved you were missing but don't know what to do with it. _Lenny_ ," she said with sudden enthusiasm, "did you meet your Richard Gere and not tell me?"

Len's jaw clenched. "Why does my line of work always come with _Pretty Woman_ correlations?"

"Gee," Lisa mocked, "can't imagine."

"He's not some savior I need to rescue me from my life," Len snapped. "I love my life."

"Yet you just admitted there's a specific _he_."

 _Crap_.

" _Lenny_. You fell in love with a client!"

"I'm not in lo—"

"And it's got you freaking out because you figure he'll only see your worth in dollar signs."

Now his stomach dropped. He wasn't _in love_ with Barry, that was juvenile, ridiculous, Len just...enjoyed the boy's company more than anyone else's.

"He's not like that," Len said, rather than deny Lisa's accusations. Barry didn't see Len's worth in any bottom line, but money was still part of the problem, because it permeated every interaction they'd ever had. Changing the nature of their relationship now would throw things off, make seeing each other awkward in ways Len couldn't stomach. It was easier to leave things be.

"Then what _is_ he like, Lenny?" Lisa asked without the tease or forceful prodding she'd started with. "Tell me."

Maybe Len had been avoiding initiating calls to his sister because he knew this would come up, and he hadn't been ready to share Barry with her yet. It was different with Mick. They always talked shop and exchanged client stories, but that had dwindled lately too, from both of them. Telling Lisa about his work was distasteful anyway, but this wasn't pillow talk—this was _Barry_.

Len found it surprisingly easy to describe the young man and reminisce about the evenings they'd spent together, not hiding that sex wasn't part of the workload. It was companionship. Support. Not _love_. Len wasn't in love. Love was too dangerous.

"You broke rule #1, Lenny. You're dating a client."

"We're not dating," Len said plainly.

"He may be paying you, but what you're doing is _dating_. Just without the fun bits at the end of the night," she snickered.

The weird thing was, Len didn't miss the 'fun bits' when he was with Barry. He thought about them, craved the kid in ways that _ached_ , but their talks and dinners, their nights spent listening to Sinatra or surfing sci-fi movies on Netflix, it was all so much more fulfilling than the short-lived pleasures his other clients gave him.

Len wished he could have _both_ , but he didn't think that existed for him.

"He's had it rough, Lise. He needs something…more than me."

"Lenny," Lisa said with a touch of sadness entering her tone, "what if for once, just once, you realized _you_ could be enough for someone? At least give this kid the benefit of the doubt. I've never heard you talk about someone like you described him. He sounds perfect for you. The same boring old man deep down and a giant dork."

Len glared at his own reflection in the nearby window. "Thanks for that."

Lisa giggled. "In reality, he does sound young but I won't judge a little cradle robbing if he makes you happy."

Glancing at the clock on his computer screen, Len realized that if he didn't start getting ready now, he'd be late. He was never late with clients. "Look, I have to go. My work day starts when yours ends, remember?"

"Fine. But if you're seeing _him_ tonight, maybe suck it up and go after what you really want. You know I've never looked down on your profession, Lenny," she turned serious again. "People can do whatever they want with their bodies as long as they enjoy themselves. If they can make money on it too, well, more power to 'em. But if what you want changes, you are allowed to pursue something new even if it's terrifying.

"I thought you were a gambling man, big brother. It's not a gamble if it isn't a risk."

Len had said that phrase to her countless times, usually when she doubted herself before making a big decision. She always rolled her eyes at him, even if ultimately, she thanked him for the push.

He wasn't sure if he was as brave as her in the end, but her words followed him from his apartment that night, all the way to a familiar apartment door.

When the young, bespectacled brunette answered his knock, Len poured all of his desire and frustration into a desperate lunge forward, claiming pliant lips before any words could be spoken. Grasping hands twisted into his shirt, a surprised mouth opening after the initial shock with pleased whimpers, their tongues sliding past each other smooth and wet.

 _Yes_. This was what Len wanted. _Touch_ that connected deeper than skin contact, enough to feel the warm body against him heat up further the longer they kissed and writhed in time to the shudders pulsing between them. It was exhilarating, _electric_ , and _so_ good.

Len just wished the lips he was kissing were _Barry's_.

"Someone's eager," Piper husked like a roughened purr. He was shorter than Barry by almost half a foot, eyes brown and body more filled out than Barry's slender frame, but there were similarities that made it easy to pretend. "I like it."

"I missed you," Len said, snapping at the young man's jaw and kicking the door closed behind him as he pawed at his prey just the way he knew Piper liked it. "Can't wait to get my _mouth_ on you."

"Ooo, _yes_ , Daddy. Get me on the bed."

Only the faint twitch of Len's smile betrayed his distaste for that endearment. It was the one thing that irked him about Piper, but the slight young man was easy to make vocal in other ways and was one of Len's favorite clients. The fact that the things he liked best about him overlapped with what he liked about _Barry_ was beside the point.

His energy, his floof of brunette hair, his love of music and _good_ art. He wasn't sweet or timid like Barry, but the similarly pale skin could almost make Len forget who he was with.

Piper was easy to lift and carry toward the bedroom, legs wrapping up around Len's waist as the contented noises he made were licked from his mouth. They had a very specific arrangement, where Len saw him before every concert to help him relax. He'd give the young musician his _full_ attention—usually on his knees—then give _himself_ attention while Piper got dressed for the concert and looked on.

Tonight, like many before it, Len had been hired to wait in the man's bed until the concert ended. Piper swore it helped him play better, having Len's mouth on him beforehand, knowing throughout the entire concert that he was waiting back at the apartment for round two.

Len loved it. He enjoyed this arrangement as much as he enjoyed all his regulars and their various desires. He'd thrived off of how appreciative Piper in particular could be for almost two years. The last thing Len should have wished for was that the noises the boy was making were _Barry's_.

He shouldn't have imagined slenderer thighs when he kissed his way up them. Shouldn't have envisioned longer fingers clawing at the sheets. Shouldn't have closed his eyes and felt his way through every attention he lavished on his partner, conjuring hazel green looking back at him and a dimpled smile. But all of that spurred him on and made it easier to be there when part of him was elsewhere.

" _Wow_ ," Piper exhaled when it was over. "You outdid yourself. Maybe you really did miss me."

"Always," Len said, playing his role to perfection as he pressed his lips to the inside of Piper's thigh.

The rest happened like clockwork—a bruising kiss before Piper went to shower, Len stroking himself until he returned, then putting on a show while Piper looked on and slipped into his tuxedo. Even then, Len imagined a different suit on the boy watching him—in _burgundy_.

Later, left to clean up, Len had the run of the apartment. He donned the robe that had been set out for him, downed a glass of water, then poured himself a stronger drink while he played Billie Holiday from the impressive sound system. He had hours before Piper would be back. Master of his domain, when he'd arrived, now, and later when Piper returned, _this_ was the sort of evening Len lived for.

Once.

He couldn't help comparing views when he went to the window, because this was better than his own apartment's outlook on the city, but it didn't hold a candle to Barry's.

Lisa was right, it was _terrifying_ how much more Len wanted from life because he didn't think it was a gamble he could take.

* * *

Barry should go to bed. His eyes were sore from staring at computer screens all day, the last thing he needed was to stare at his TV until all hours of the night. Not that it was terribly late, he just didn't want to go to bed early even if he was tired. He tended to stall going to bed on nights when Len wasn't with him, because the thought of getting under those covers alone sunk his heart like a stone in a pond.

He didn't do well alone.

He'd been doing well _across the board_ , apparently, but he didn't feel that way.

Pausing in his Netflix queue on one of the more recent Japan-made _Godzilla_ movies, Barry was about to press play when he stopped himself. Len would _love_ this movie. He didn't want to watch it without him, which all at once felt so pathetic, Barry wondered what Len was doing tonight and suddenly didn't want to watch anything.

He snagged his phone from the coffee table, looked at the time again to be sure it wasn't too late, and dialed his sister in a last-ditch effort for sanity.

"Are you finally ready to tell me whatever secret you and Eddie have been keeping behind my back?"

"I don't even get a 'hello?'" Barry deflected, despite being the one who'd called her, "or 'how are you, brother dear, I love you and miss your face?'"

"Cute, Barr," Iris droned, "but _no_ , not when you've been conspiring with my husband."

"It's not conspiring, just… _avoiding_." He was surprised she hadn't pestered him sooner.

"Barry," her voice dropped to a more sympathetic pitch, "what did you do?"

Staring at the Netflix screen, Barry sighed at the cliché picture he painted, just like having ice cream for dinner. "I took your advice. And I think I might hate you for it."

The truth poured out of him easier than he expected, maybe because Iris stayed silent while he explained how he'd hired an escort that first week in Star City and had been scheduling him almost daily ever since. He told her about every late night, every event, every snuggle on the sofa or in bed, and how hard it was not to push for more when every moment with Len was the best part of his day sometimes.

"Barry, when I said you could hire an escort to make things easier, I didn't think you'd fall for the guy."

"I didn't—"

" _Barry_ ," she used her no-nonsense, 'do you really think you can pull one over on _me'_ voice.

She knew how hard Barry fell when he liked someone. He'd fallen hard for Harrison once—hard enough to give his whole self over to a man who took him for granted. Len would never do that. Barry trusted _Len_. It was himself he didn't trust, not to find some way to screw this up, especially if it was…

"…real?"

"Huh?" Barry said, more distracted than he'd realized.

"What I said, Barry, was is this something you need to put a stop to before you get in too deep…or is it real?"

"It couldn't be real," Barry shook his head. "I pay him."

"Okay, but if money wasn't involved, how would you feel then?"

Barry knew the answer, but he was experienced in rejection, even if it had been years since he'd been single. He could picture clearly the pitying look Len would give him when he turned him down, as gently as possible of course, which would almost be worse than being laughed at. Len wouldn't laugh. He was too nice for that, too good at his job, but he'd still turn Barry down. People probably fell in love with him all the time.

"Think about it, Barry," Iris said. "If this is hurting you more than helping, maybe it's time to end it. But if it is something real, don't doubt yourself so much, okay? And next time," she added with a touch of sass, "don't get Eddie to lie for you. You know he's terrible at that."

Barry laughed. "Sorry. And thanks, Iris. Really." She was probably right anyway—about the first part. He should cut his losses before things got awkward, before it got too difficult to let Len go. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

But after the call, Barry decided to wait on the _Godzilla_ movie, just in case.

* * *

"Mr. Snart?"

"Hmm?"

Len focused on Rip behind the desk, reminding himself that he was in the office, in mid-conversation, and could not afford to daydream.

Rip fixed him with a calculating stare. "As I said, perhaps you could pick up some basic escort assignments if you're weary and needing a break, though I understand you prefer _complete package_ clients."

Right. Rip had finally pressed Len about not filling the empty slot for Narcissus. Len didn't want to add a new regular. He'd even been debating who else he could cut to lighten his load more for…shit, _Barry_. What the hell was he doing?

"Mr. Snart?"

"I'm listening," Len struggled not to snap.

"Your schedule is your own," Rip said in appeasement. "You're certainly still pulling your weight financially, I merely wished to express my curiosity and ensure nothing was out of sorts."

"I'm fine, just tired. Maybe I will take on some simpler escort requests for a while."

"Certainly. That option is always open to you. Mr. Rory appears to be lightening his load as well," Rip shifted from concern to thinly veiled suspicion, tapping his desk as his attention diverted to the aggregate calendar on his computer. "You don't have any insight there, do you?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

"That tends to prove…ineffectual."

Len snorted, which turned into clearing his throat. "Sorry, Rip. No idea what might be going on."

"Naturally," Rip sighed in lacking surprise. "Was there anything else?"

Nothing Rip could help with, just that Len was _drowning_ and the only way to save him was to let him sink or make a daring rescue—by dropping Barry altogether.

Merlin had been right about one thing: Barry would want someone untainted when he was finally ready to stop paying for company. It would be worse if Barry clung to Len because of the trauma he'd escaped and the struggles he still faced. Maybe it was time for Len to remove the temptation from both of them and fill his schedule with new regulars. Or maybe every option he'd been juggling was wrong and he needed a vacation.

Even escorts needed vacation sometimes. Len had never taken one before, but he found himself opening his mouth—

A raised voice echoed down the hallway, drawing their attention to the door. Sara darted past just as Len turned as if she'd already been alerted to the commotion before things escalated loud enough to reach them. Casting a brief glance back at Rip, Len raced out of the office to follow Sara as Rip gave chase behind him.

By the time they reached the front, Gideon was on her feet, talking animatedly with security over the phone, while Sara had a man with shorn platinum hair pressed to the wall with his arm twisted up behind his back. Being a half head taller than the petite blond woman in no way gave the man an advantage, which he'd obviously already learned.

"Are you aware who you're manhandling, Miss Lance?" he seethed against the wall.

"Everyone looks the same to me, Mr. _Dark_ ," Sara answered, using his code name, Len assumed, while her hold remained secure and her words bit out close and tight at his ear, "either worth my time or not. Guess where you fall at the moment?"

"I'm a _client_ ," he growled, as if that excused his bad behavior. "And I'm dissatisfied. I demand—"

"Why don't you take a nap until security arrives?" Sara said simply, and in one sure move, she pressed her forearm to his windpipe until he passed out, where she released him, checked his pulse, and left him on the floor.

Rip straightened his suit with a nod at Gideon, who'd just finished alerting security. "Everything all right, Miss Lance?" he turned to Sara next, as calm and collected as ever.

With a crack of her wrists, Sara smiled dangerously. "Perfectly under control, sir."

It wasn't the first time Len had seen Sara deal with an unruly client who'd made their way to the office to cause trouble. Len didn't even know who this man was serviced by— _formally_ serviced by, clearly. Certainly formally now.

The point was, he wasn't shaken by confrontation or violence; he was rarely moved by such things, always ready to defend himself if the need arose because he knew how the world worked and how people like him were looked down on as if they weren't _people_ at all. What shook him was that the only thing he could think about while staring at the unconscious man at Sara's feet wasn't Dark himself or even Merlin, but _Harrison Wells_ and what little worth that man had attributed to Barry.

The emails had dwindled but Len knew men like Harrison. He was looking at one right now. He didn't want to leave Barry in the lurch, but he didn't want to be a crutch for him either, he…he was all turned around, unable to form a plan that made sense, when he was always, _always_ in control. Barry made him feel like he was freefalling, and he couldn't understand why he liked that so much.

"Leonard?" Sara asked, suddenly in front of him, gripping his arm to drag him back down to earth.

"Keep my schedule clear tonight," he said, and turned on his heel to head out the door.

"Mr. Snart!" Rip called after him, but Len was already gone.

He wasn't scheduled to see Barry tonight, but he had no other appointments and he needed to sort through this, needed to find out where they stood, untwist what he and Barry were to each other so he could make a clean break if that's what was needed. If Barry had grown too reliant on him, he should break things off immediately anyway.

That's what he expected to find when he ended up outside Barry's door—a broken man, desperate as always to see him. But as soon as Len finished knocking, dressed more casually than usual in a simple black sweater, canvas jacket, and jeans, he realized that the sounds coming from inside the apartment were not that of a lone man watching TV.

Barry had company. _Shit_. What the hell was Len doing here?

Backing up, seconds from bolting, Len was blasted with an increase in volume of group _laughter_ when the door opened and he was confronted by Barry's smiling, happy face.

"Len!" Barry exclaimed before his smile fell in lieu of _guilt_. "Oh no, did I forget I had you scheduled tonight," he continued in a rush.

"No, I…" Len immediately jumped to soften Barry's rambling. "You didn't. We didn't. I shouldn't...be here. You have friends over." He could see Curtis and Paul over Barry's shoulder, and another couple he couldn't quite make out.

"Well, yeah, but… _you're_ a friend," Barry renewed his smile with a shy glance at the floor. "You should come in. I wanted to invite you, but I wasn't sure if that would be…weird?"

"Who is it, Barry?" Curtis called from inside, though he could clearly see Len. He was grinning though, so Len didn't think the man was being facetious to be rude.

Barry was doing well even without Len's presence, settling in fine and making new friends. That was…good. That's what Len had hoped to find even if he didn't expect it because it meant he wasn't holding Barry back.

But then…maybe Barry didn't need him anymore.

"It's Len!" Barry said before seizing Len's hand to pull him inside. "Come on. It's okay. Please?" he gave Len this private little smile, squeezing his hand until Len had to smile back and go along with him to please the pounding of his pulse. "You remember Curtis and Paul."

Len was summarily dragged to the living room where the couple sat on one section of Barry's large L-shaped sofa, and the other couple—

" _Laurel_ ," Len stuttered to a stop, recognizing the young woman as soon as he saw her face.

As floored as Len was to see her there, she seemed entirely unfazed to see him. "Good to see you again, Leonard."

"You know my trainer?" Barry turned to Len with equal shock. _Of course_ —his self-defense trainer. Len should have guessed it was the same Laurel, but he'd never known her profession. "How do you two know each…uhh…" The poor kid trailed off as his mind supplied the _wrong_ conclusion.

"No, we—"

"Len works with my sister," Laurel saved him, "Sara."

"Oh," Barry smiled in painfully obvious relief. Then his eyes widened. "Wait, _Sara Lance_?"

"Lance is my maiden name," Laurel said.

Len's eyes drifted over the group, to Laurel who _knew_ , to her husband who obviously knew as well now that Sara had been mentioned, and with the way Curtis wore an amused, bitten-back smile and his husband looked on like the _clusterfuck_ in front of him was too fascinating not to stare at, it became glaringly clear that everyone in the room knew Len _wasn't_ Barry's publicist.

"I should go," he pulled out of Barry's grasp and turned for the door.

"What? _Why?_ " Barry clutched after him, gripping his wrist tightly for a moment, only to let his fingers retract in apology. He moved close to Len anyway, eager and uncertain but not as small as the man Len first met. "You don't have to leave. It's just Trivial Pursuit. You can stay if you want to."

Didn't Barry understand they all knew what he was? Maybe he didn't. Maybe he was too naïve to get it. But the flush to his cheeks seemed to say otherwise and he simply didn't care.

"Are you sure _you_ want me to?" Len asked quietly between them.

Barry looked effervescent tonight, relaxed in one of his newer, nicer pairs of jeans but with a Star Wars T-shirt and zip-up sweater. "Why wouldn't I?" he said, too sincere, too _good_. "It's an evening for friends. As long as you want to be here, I...want that too."

This was not what Len had come here for, but then he didn't know _what_ he'd come here for. Answers. Direction. Absolution maybe. Barry's smile held all those things.

"Okay, Barry. I'll stay." In a rush, all the tension drained from Len's shoulders just by making Barry look that happy. He let Barry take his coat, then sat with him on the sofa beside Laurel and, "Tommy, was it?"

"Nice to see you again," he said, who Len had briefly met because of Sara.

"You too."

There wasn't judgment in anyone's eyes, least of all in Curtis, despite the man's dopey grin—Len saw that now.

"It's actually _Lord of the Rings_ Trivial Pursuit," Curtis said.

Glancing at the board on the coffee table, Len asked, "Books or movies?"

"Both," Paul said excitedly.

"Well in that case," Len chuckled, meeting Barry's lingering gaze from where he sat close enough at Len's side for their hips to touch, "none of you stand a chance."

* * *

It felt like their first night all over again. Tentative and thrilling and so much _fun_. The only difference this time was that Barry got to share how wonderful Len was with other people, and so differently than at some stiff social event. Len also _crushed_ it on the Tolkien lore, which made him even more perfect, something Barry never would have thought possible.

Not once did Barry think about schedules or the other clients Len saw, at least not until everyone else was getting ready to leave, abandoning Barry to Len's solo company after a completely not-date _date_.

Then it was definitely like their first night all over again, because how did Barry proceed from point A to point B without making a fool of himself? Suddenly, the topic of _money_ when nothing had been scheduled beforehand loomed over them like a storm cloud. It had been easy to push that aside while playing games and earing and enjoying drinks with the other couples. The other couples—as if _they_ were a couple.

Laurel and Tommy left first, followed immediately by Curtis and Paul. It did not help that Curtis winked at Barry on his way out either.

"Small world," Len said from the kitchen, having brought glasses over to the sink to help clean up. "Or maybe it's just this city," he smiled at Barry.

"Y-Yeah," Barry scratched the back of his head as he moved toward Len. "Maybe I can meet Sara sometime." _Or was that weird? Was Barry making things weird?_

"Maybe…" Len said, too cryptic to read, like even he wasn't sure if he meant that. Turning to lean against the cabinets, he faced Barry like another familiar picture from their past, yet everything was different tonight, paved in uneven ground neither knew how to tread. "I should head home too. Unless…"

"Unless?" Barry perked up.

"Unless…" Len gestured at Barry like _he_ was the summed-up answer.

Because Barry was the client. Because Barry set the rules. Being handed back the reins didn't make him feel very in control right now. "Oh. You don't _have_ to stay and snuggle or anything. We can say it was just between friends tonight. Unless you _want_ to be paid!" Oh god, now Barry felt like a complete _goon_.

Len didn't look upset though. He laughed lightly like Barry had surprised him. "This can be unpaid, Barry. It was a night off for me."

His night _off_? "But I still made you work."

"It didn't feel like work." Len took a breath as if more words waited on his tongue, as if he wanted to say, _you never feel like work_.

The blush filling Barry's cheeks made him certain his hair was about to set on fire. He was reading into things. Len was just being nice. Len had…come here on his night _off_. "Oh! I forgot to ask! Why did you come over if you weren't scheduled tonight? Did you need to talk to me about something?"

For the first time since Barry had known Len, the other man looked cornered and unsure how to answer. Then the apprehension melted from his expression and he just looked at Barry, content and unguarded—not an act, not a role, just…Len.

"You know, I can't remember. Guess I just wanted to see you."

Not knowing how to compute that, surprised laughter erupted from Barry's lips. Len wanted to see him. Len didn't care about the business side. He just wanted to _see him_. "Cool! _Good_. You can always come see me if you want to. Tonight was really fun."

What came next, however, was shrouded in mystery. Barry didn't want to ruin the magic by _speaking_ again. He hoped Len would take the initiative, and as it turned out, he did—by heading for the door. Which was _fine_ , definitely the right call, but Barry felt like he was flailing following at his heels.

It was the first time they hadn't ended an evening in their underwear, creating such a unique dynamic that was somehow more intimate with clothes on. All Barry could think about as he accompanied Len to the door was that he wished he could kiss him goodbye, but then he'd be taking advantage of the offer of just a night between _friends_ , no escort expectations.

Still, there was hope now like a buzz of electricity between them that was better than any brush of skin.

"Good night," Barry gripped the edge of his door for balance, not ready to shut it behind Len just yet.

Len hesitated, nodded like he'd convinced himself to complete some insurmountable act, then leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Barry's cheek. "Good night, Barry."

* * *

Barry hummed when he was happy. He'd been told it was highly annoying.

But he couldn't help it! He'd slept _great_ last night and had carried a skip in his step since the moment he walked out the door. Today, he was at Palmer Tech again, head down working on data sets that would eventually need reviewing from multiple departments as well as Smoak Industries. It was the perfect sort of work day for him, because he could live in his own world for a while and just get things done. He needed days like that.

Especially when his head was wrapped in a fluffy cloud of _Len_. And that kiss. And their perfect night.

Barry still had Len scheduled for several events and evenings coming up, but everything was different now, and even knowing that the conversation of 'what do we do next?' still lay ahead, Barry felt confident in the outcome. He felt giddy.

He'd been listening to DragonForce and Lordi on his headphones all day—not _Lorde_ , which had really confused Iris the first time he mentioned the band and played her one of their songs. "Let's Go Slaughter He-Man" was not the same genre as "Royals." But with metal blaring in his ears, he was in the _zone_ , even when just refilling his coffee or grabbing a snack. He'd have his work done in half the time at this rate.

Sure, a few people in the breakroom or hallways snickered at him or seemed to be whispering about something with glances his direction—probably because he was still an anti-social dork most of the time, what else could they be whispering about—but he didn't care. He was on top of the world right now.

"Hey, Barry, can I steal you for a minute?"

Until Ray waved a hand in front of his face and Barry had to tug out his earbuds. "Hi! Sorry. And yeah, of course, what's up?"

"Good news. Always good news. Come on." Ray pulled Barry along with him and kept a firm hold for the first few steps toward the conference rooms. He was one of those overly physical people, but Barry didn't mind so much now that he knew Ray.

"I like good news," Barry said. "About the project?"

"Yep! We have another interested partner that could really help this blow up."

"Really? Who?"

"STAR Labs in Central City."

Barry stumbled over his feet, which he wished he could blame on keeping up with Ray's pace. "That's…great. They're a good company. Lots of resources."

"Exactly. Some of their people contacted us after that press release about the new venture. They'd like to get in on things too, maybe offer some support and additional scientists to help us see this through. Apparently, one of their top brass worked with you before and really knows your models?"

"Uhh…well…"

"I figured it was the least I could do to hear out his proposal in person."

"What?" Barry's heart pounded in his ears louder than the drums had been pulsing over his earphones. "You… _H-He's_ …"

Ray led Barry into the main conference room with a flourish where a tall, trim, striking man in his early 40s stood waiting with the most satisfied, snake-like grin.

 _Harrison_.

"Hello, Barry."

* * *

TBC...


	6. Chapter 6

Barry's vision tunneled, zeroing in on the face, the figure, the _man_ he hadn't laid eyes on in months. Rooted to the spot just inside the conference room door, he couldn't move until Ray snapped him back to consciousness with a pat on the back.

"Barry, Harrison tells me you two know each other pretty well."

How _dare_ he? He wasn't merely grinning like a snake, he _was_ one—a viper waiting to strike.

"We worked parallel to each other for years," Harrison said, crossing the room to approach Barry and Ray with measured steps, "so we didn't always cross paths, but I know his work well. Barry was always exceptional."

 _Snake_.

"No surprise there," Ray said with his usual jovial charm. "I'm just lucky to get some of his divided attention." He laughed, and Barry knew he should react, speak, _scream_ , but he couldn't move. He'd been thrown back in time almost half a year and he had no idea how to respond.

Even Harrison's glasses were the same—black on top but clear along the bottom. Barry remembered when he got them. He wore a blue patterned suit, one of Barry's favorites because of how it complemented his eyes, with a crisp shirt and tie.

The one difference was his hair, cut shorter on the sides to look more modern, more fitting for Star City like he planned to stick around.

"You're staying for the presentation, right?" Barry turned to Ray without acknowledging Harrison directly.

"Of course. You can't do all the heavy lifting," Ray patted his back again, hovering close like Barry usually found intrusive, but today he was grateful. "Just one second, I want to grab a few of the gang from R&D. Plus, I figured you'd want a couple minutes to catch up. I'll be right back."

Barry tried, he really did, to say something—no, wait, _stop_ —but the air crystalized in his lungs and seared him with every breath he choked on until Ray was out the door, abandoning him in a secluded room with his—

 _Not_ ex. Harrison didn't deserve to be called just an 'ex' when Laurel had worked so hard to get him to admit what the man really was.

A user. An _abuser_. A snake, a rotten snake, he was a—

"Barry?"

Breath catching just as fiercely when his eyes landed on Harrison again, Barry saw that confident façade drop away, leaving the older man looking…scared. And _sorrowful_. And like every other time he'd convinced Barry to stay with him.

 _Channel it,_ Barry thought as he remembered the lies that followed. _Use it. Be angry—you have a_ right _to be angry._

"Hear me out." Harrison raised his hands in surrender.

" _No_ ," Barry spat with more bite than he expected. Focusing on that small win, he clenched his fists tighter. "What the hell are you doing here, Harry? Are you out of your mind? Ray doesn't know our history, but if you think I won't tell him the truth to keep you off this project—"

"I'm not here to cause trouble."

"Even _worse_ if you think you can win me back—"

"I'm not here for that either." He came closer, too close, keeping the large table and the rest of the conference room behind him since Barry hadn't moved from the door. "I understand, Barry, if you can never forgive me for that night. I took you for granted, for years, I know that now. I'm here because I honestly believe this business decision is a sound one, but I could have sent someone else to make the proposal. The truth is, I wanted the chance to tell you how sorry I am."

 _Lies_. It was a lie. It was _always_ a lie. "I didn't answer your emails because I _don't_ want to talk to you," Barry stood his ground, unyielding. "How did you even get—"

"If you want to tell Palmer our history and that it's unprofessional for me to be here," Harrison spoke over him, "I'll bow out."

"It _is_ unprofessional," Barry barked back. "It was unprofessional for you to get your _boyfriend_ a job so you could watch me all day and steal my work."

"Steal?" Harrison reared back like he had no idea what Barry was talking about.

No. _No_. He did not get to do this again. "You stole every idea I ever had," Barry threw in his face with the venom it deserved. "You _won't_ steal this."

"Barry," Harrison raised his hands once more as if to _appease_ him, as if Barry was the unreasonable one, "I asked if it was okay every time I presented your ideas as my own. You just needed one more promotion to get on the radar of the other execs, then they would have listened without me. I told you that."

"You could have let me present my own ideas and backed me instead."

"For them to find out we were sleeping together, _living_ together, and assume that was the only reason I was vouching for you?" His words came out so sincere, so rational, that Barry floundered for how to counter him. "Yes, I used your research, but I always asked. I never demanded. I never stole anything."

That…wasn't true, was it?

He _had_ asked, if Barry thought about it, and Barry had always agreed…but only because he felt like he had no other choice! Harrison had manipulated him. This was all part of the game. _This_ was how he'd controlled Barry for years.

"I'm not having this argument," Barry shut him down; he had to shut him _down_.

But Harrison reached for him—

"Barry—"

—for his _arm_ , and Barry couldn't, he _couldn't_. He staggered back, knocking into the door in his haste to get away and hating how he trembled at the mere thought of Harrison's hands on him.

Harrison didn't pursue him, but stopped mid-step, arm outstretched, expression distressed and so mournful again. "Barry…please. Don't flinch like that. You know I'd never hurt you."

"Never—" Rage boiled inside of Barry where fear had just bubbled. How could he say that? How could he _say that_? "You broke my _arm_."

"I…what?" His own arm dropped as he leaned away from Barry and the color drained from his face. "It was broken? You never told me that. I had no idea. You wouldn't even talk to me."

"Why should I have?" Barry stayed on the defensive, though he had to wonder if Harrison really hadn't known. Not that it _mattered_. He'd still done it. Wasn't it worse if he hadn't noticed how rough he was being? "Why should I listen to you now? The only thing that's different is I'm happy and doing better without you."

It was everything Barry had rehearsed in his head, everything he'd longed to say but assumed he'd never get the chance. It didn't feel as vindicating as he'd envisioned, because Harrison was supposed to sneer at him and put him down, not shrink in on himself like he cared, like he was _sorry_.

"Were you never happy with me?" he asked in a small voice. "Never?"

Getting his trembling under control, Barry moved away from the door, not closer to Harrison but parallel around him so he no longer felt trapped. "For a while…I was," he said, because he had been, hadn't he? There were reasons he'd fallen for Harrison, valid reasons he'd wanted to be with him—once. "But not for a long time."

"Then I'm sorry for that too," Harrison said, blue eyes closing briefly before they opened, clouded and damp—which wasn't fair, it wasn't _fair_ , he had no _right_ to make this harder. "I'm not asking for a second chance, Barry. I'm asking for you to let me prove I can still be the man you once trusted and cared for so that maybe we can walk away from this without hating each other. That's all I'm after. Your forgiveness, only if you believe I deserve it, not your love. I know I lost that a long time ago.

"Palmer will listen to whatever you want," he gestured at the door. "You're the one in demand here. You're the one everyone wants to please. So, if there is a second that passes where you want me or even all of STAR Labs out of the picture, just say the word and I'm gone. Your call, Barry. I won't fight what you want, even if that includes me leaving."

The _bastard_ was taking the high road when all Barry wanted was to hate him. He'd finally gotten to a place where he felt justified in hating him, where he recognized what had been done to him all those years, how much he'd been used, how…awful…

But looking at Harry now, he saw some of the man he remembered from when they first met, and that made everything worse.

The door opened with a whoosh as Ray returned, followed by three members of the R&D team. "Okay!" he clapped his hands together. "Shall we get started? What are you doing back there, Barry?" He turned to peer at where Barry stood half-hidden behind the door.

"Nothing." Barry pulled on a smile and moved to the wall to grab a water bottle from the conference room mini fridge, "just getting a drink. Anyone else need something?"

He couldn't make a scene, _wouldn't_ make a big deal of this. He just had to sit through the proposal and take his time deciding the best course of action. It would have been so much easier if Harrison had given him a reason to have him dragged out by security.

Throughout the presentation, Barry thought he'd be lost in a daze, unable to listen, but Harrison was good at pitching, a good storyteller, quick with a joke and warm smile, and always intuitive to when it was time to get serious. STAR Labs had more overseas contacts than Palmer Tech or Smoak Industries, more access to certain technologies that would keep production costs down. Anyone could tell that the proposal was mutually beneficial.

It was almost nice a few minutes here and there when Harry would have the room laughing or smiling along with him— _Barry_ included—reminding him of the passionate, fiercely intelligent man Barry once found so enthralling. He wasn't an innovator, he didn't come up with new models or technologies the way Barry did, but he was good at implementation and bringing a project together.

"Well, if everyone's in agreement," Ray said, "I'll send the proposal to Ms. Smoak for her take, maybe set something up for later this week, make sure our partner doesn't bite my head off for talking to you first." He chuckled, but Barry knew how scary Felicity could be when given a reason. Ray turned to him last for his approval, for his say, and there was nothing Barry could do but nod.

When the others left, he stayed in the conference room with Harrison, even though part of him wanted to bolt.

"You didn't say anything," Harrison said, quietly despite it only being the two of them.

"I wasn't going to tell a room full of my peers that you're an _asshole_ and look like an asshole myself," Barry said, avoiding his stare. "It makes sense to collaborate with STAR Labs. It's a good proposal. You were always good at that sort of thing."

"I can ask for a representative to replace me," he said, "have someone else—"

"You're CTO," Barry cut him off, because this was hard enough without Harrison's sympathy. His pity? His regret… "It should be you. It's...fine. I'm not going to be petty. But my decision doesn't mean _anything_ else." Forcing himself to meet those bright blue eyes, he fought the instinctive shiver they stirred in him. "I don't want to see you. I don't want to talk to you. This is _just_ professional."

"Of course." Harrison nodded without a single word of argument.

 _Damn it._

Moving swiftly to leave the room before anything else could be said, what Barry hated more than anything else was that _this_ version of Harry…reminded him of the man he'd fallen in love with.

* * *

"Why are you buying me a drink in the middle of the day?" Len eyed Sara with suspicion.

Sara didn't take days off any more than Len did, but there she was, treating him to a late lunch and a drink at their favorite dive bar. She looked different with her hair down in a casual outfit and leather jacket, like she could bench press a bouncer and then slam a few shots. She ordered some too, along with a couple beers as if to prove that point.

"I have news," she said, "and trust me, after you hear it, you're gonna need a drink."

They clinked glasses and downed their shots together, then took their beers from the bar to a corner table before she elaborated.

"The Godfather will no longer be using your services."

"That's it?" Len hadn't been expecting this news, but he wasn't devastated by it. "Don't tell me _she_ had an ex to go back to? I'll get a complex."

"Nope," Sara's blond waves bounced as she shook her head. "Her father? Godfather _Senior_? Was just arrested for racketeering."

Len gaped at her as she took a liberal drink from her beer. "You're joking."

"Aptly chosen code name, Leonard." She held her glass out for a toast.

" _Shit_." He was too stunned to mirror her yet. "How did they catch him?"

Grinning wider, Sara pushed his beer closer to him. "You have _Scarlet_ to thank for that."

"The police program?"

"Extra officers were in the right place at the right time and caught Vandal Savage," she whispered to keep his name private, "red-handed in the middle of offering protection to a local business. The news is going to be rampant with this for weeks, making your little data scientist look very good. You're seeing him later, right?"

This was amazing, everything Barry had hoped for, and it had even inadvertently cleared more of Len's schedule. Len wished The Godfather all the best, she was a good kid, but he understood if her focus needed to be elsewhere.

Barry was going to be buzzing with elation tonight.

"I think this might call for celebration when I head over." Finally, Len raised his glass to join Sara's toast and took a solid swig of beer for himself.

He wouldn't have another, he wanted to save his senses for Barry, especially since tonight was the perfect occasion to bring over an imported beer he'd been saving that would go well with what they planned to make for dinner.

"Now you only have Piper and Prince to pawn off and you can make a clean getaway." Sara eyed him over the rim of her mug.

Len glowered. He should have known she'd start fishing if she was picking up the tab. "And why would I want to do that?"

"You know my sister called me last night, right?"

 _Of course she did_. "I know how nosy sisters can be. Care to keep _your_ nose out of my business?"

"Not if you're going to start having dinner parties with my family members," she snarked back. Sara downed almost all of the rest of her beer in one long gulp, then smacked her lips when she slammed it down. "Laurel had quite a few things to say about you two."

"Doesn't _Laurel_ have any sense of patient confidentiality?"

"She's a personal trainer."

"Who doubles as a therapist by Scarlet's description."

Sara pursed her lips to concede the point. "She didn't give any specifics, so _Scarlet's_ secrets are safe, but in her words, you seemed like an entirely different man than the one she remembered meeting."

"That's what I do, Sara," Len spread his arms to encompass himself, "become the man my clients need me to be."

"Only you weren't on the clock last night."

 _Damn it_. She had him, as easily as she could have hooked him into a headlock. "Look, if you're concerned about my work ethic—"

"I'm not here as your handler, Leonard," she dropped the sly smile, "I'm here as your friend. We've worked together a long time. I know how you handle clients. I know what normal looks like for you. And Laurel's right. Lately, you've been a different man, and anyone with eyes could see that it's because of _Barry Allen_." Her voice dropped just as softly as it had when she said _Savage_ , but Len still tensed to hear Barry mentioned anywhere other than between them and their circle of public events.

Len was supposed to be a master of personas, playing the right role to fit the right situation, even when that meant pulling on a mask to fool his friends, but Sara wasn't someone he could con. Laurel wasn't either apparently, not that Len had tried conning anyone last night.

"It might not even matter," he said. "Scarlet's a sweet, kid. Maybe he doesn't think of me—"

"Please," Sara interrupted, still serious and holding him captive with just her presence across from him. "Excuses don't become you, Leonard. You can't do this forever. Even a man aging as gracefully as you are can't turn tricks in his sixties."

Len frowned. A jab at his age was always a sore spot, because it _had_ been grating on him lately, that sense of something missing while the years passed by and nothing changed. "You want to put money on that?" he said.

Sara let out a low chuckle. "Okay, _you_ probably could. But is that really what you want?"

It had been a long time since Len had thought about what he wanted beyond a satisfying night and a job well done. Barry made him question everything.

"Just promise you'll give me a head's up before making some big scene in front of Rip when you quit," Sara finished before downing the last of her beer.

Now Len had to chuckle. "Why, so you can keep the peace?"

"So I can _record_ it."

He laughed outright. "I'm not going anywhere yet. And besides, Rip's an asshole…but he's a good man." Len didn't need to make any scenes when he left, and was he seriously considering quitting someday? For Barry?

"Too bad all assholes aren't nice like us," Sara said and raised her glass for one more clink.

Len obliged her, but his own swallow of beer was enjoyed slowly, because he wasn't entirely sure what he'd just admitted.

"Now, we playing darts or pool," Sara rubbed her hands together as she glanced toward the back of the bar, where both options awaited them, "coz I'm having at least one more beer, and I owe you for that last poker match."

They had a mild rivalry with anything competitive, which came out in friendly games of cards or whatever else might be available. Sara was easy to be around in that sense, even when they weren't talking, something Len had always appreciated about his friendship with Mick too.

Which reminded him, "Hey, as long as you're being meddlesome, what's been going on with Mick? Rip said he's been clearing his schedule. You know anything about that?"

Sara smirked like she had a secret—and she _always_ did. "Better ask him."

* * *

Barry just had to look on the bright side. Everything would be fine. Everything would be _fine_.

Plus, he had this insane text from Oliver—it still floored him that the mayor of Star City texted him on occasion—about a mob boss the police program had helped shut down, which was a huge win. He should have been overjoyed.

Harrison wasn't even in the building anymore, and still Barry jumped at shadows, expecting him around every corner. Maybe he was just being paranoid. He believed in predictability, because that's how models worked, and if analyzed correctly, they were almost never wrong. That didn't mean there weren't exceptions. The same was true of everyday life, like with Harrison showing up in his _office_. Sure, Barry had certain expectations based on past events, but Harry could still prove to be an outlier and surprise him.

Maybe he really meant what he'd said, and at the end of it all, Barry would be able to put this behind him without any disasters.

"He slept with Wells, ya know."

Jerking to a sudden halt, fear pumped through Barry's veins as he held back from continuing toward the vending machines. _What?_

"Seriously? He did?"

"Bet he's bangin' Palmer too."

Those were two of the R&D guys, ones who'd been in the room with Barry and Harrison during the meeting. Were they talking about _him_?

"I don't think Ray's like that. He worships his wife."

"Fine, maybe Smoak then. Hell, maybe the mayor!"

"Now you're reaching. Allen's too sweet and reserved for that sort of thing."

They _were_ talking about him.

"Please, the quiet ones are always freaks in private. You know that really good looking guy he brings to all the events?"

"His publicist?"

"I heard he pays the guy for more than just managing his public persona, if you know what I mean."

 _Oh god._ Was this what everyone had been whispering about?

"Really? Wow, guess you never know with some people."

Barry was going to throw up. A second ago, all he'd wanted was to devour the unhealthiest snack he could find to stifle his anxiety with calories, but now his stomach was twisted like a sailor's knot.

The voices faded as the two developers walked on past the vending machines, but their words and implications remained. Barry didn't care what people thought about him, but rumors could still hurt his work, and if it got back to Len or hurt _him_ in any way, Barry would never forgive himself. Who had even started these rumors? Was it just inevitable or made worse because Harrison was here?

They'd kept things quiet all the time they were together, at least at work, but some people had still whispered back in Central, some knew, how else had Curtis known when Barry started at Smoak Industries? Barry hadn't cared about the whispers when he was with Harrison because he thought he was happy, kept trying to convince himself he was happy and that any scandal would be worth it.

Now he _was_ happy, but the whispers were far more dangerous with much more at stake.

Barry needed to get ahead of this. He needed _help_ to know how to handle shutting it down. But the first person he wanted to call, he couldn't, because all he felt like now was a burden.

* * *

Len had taken out his contacts before leaving home, knowing how much Barry enjoyed the way he looked in his glasses. He loved tying Barry's tongue with the right entrance. His outfit tonight was a tad dressy for the evening's plans with slacks, a collared shirt and tie covered by a striped sweater he imagined fitting in well with Barry's new wardrobe—not that he wanted to distract himself with thoughts of Barry in _his_ clothing—topped off with a smart grey blazer.

He wasn't _quitting_ being escort, certainly not tonight anyway, but if his schedule remained more open for a while and things between him and Barry shifted course, Len wasn't going to hold himself back. Sometimes sticking to best-laid plans was overrated.

Expensive bottle of beer in hand, Len knocked on Barry's door right on schedule.

An immediate answer didn't come.

Len knocked again, thinking Barry might be in the bathroom or hadn't heard him, but a harried rush of footsteps soon followed, along with Barry's voice sounding agitated.

"I talked to Iris for over an hour, Cisco," his voice carried through the door just before he wrenched it open, "I can't even think— _Len_. What are you…?" All at once, awareness hit him and he looked guilty just like last night. "Dinner. You're scheduled tonight and this time I really did forget. I'm _sorry_. Yes," he answered into his phone, gesturing for Len to come in as he continued fielding questions from his friend, " _no_ , not right now, okay, can we just…I promise. I will, Cisco. I love you too. Bye. I'm _sorry,_ Len," he said again, throwing his phone onto a crumpled pile of what Len realized was Barry's jacket in the middle of the floor.

He looked—not terrible, but like the mess of a boy Len had thought Barry was moving on from. He'd been disappointed to find Barry so well-adjusted last night because it worried him that he was no longer needed, but seeing Barry like this again shredded Len. The boy's simple button down and slacks were rumbled, shirt untucked, hair a mess like he'd been pulling at it for hours, eyes red, _face_ red, just frazzled and fidgeting as he paced back toward Len.

"I haven't even thought about dinner, I'm sorry, I didn't—"

" _Barry_ ," Len entered slowly, shutting the door behind him, and looked at Barry squarely, "it's fine. Tell me what happened. I was ready to celebrate with you tonight after hearing about that crime boss the SCPD brought in, all because of your program." He lifted the beer to prove it.

"You were? You heard about that?" Barry lit up as if that almost made up for whatever was plaguing him. "It is good news, and it should be all I'm thinking about right now, but something else happened and I just… _urg_."

Taking the bottle from Len and hurrying away again like he needed a moment to compose himself, when Barry led Len to the kitchen so he could put the bottle away, Len noted two normal-sized _empty_ beer bottles on the counter.

Barry wasn't drunk, but the alcohol he'd tried to drown his sorrows in obviously hadn't helped soothe his nerves. After depositing the bottle in the fridge, instead of summoning a smile like Len almost expected—not that he would have bought it—Barry plopped down on one of the island stools, elbows on the counter and head in his hands.

"Harrison's here. In Star City. At _Palmer Tech_ ," he said before Len could press him, and even though Len's blood ran cold at the first mention of that name, he maintained a calm façade while Barry explained the events of earlier that day, all the way to the rumors he'd overheard and how sorry he was if any of it got back to Len's employer or got him into trouble somehow.

Only this kid could have the devil at his back and snapping harpies all around him and worry about someone else.

"I called Iris, and Eddie chimed in a couple times, then Cisco called, and all of them have different opinions about if I did the right thing agreeing to let Harry stay and work on the project. I don't know if I made the right choice, but what was I supposed to do? I keep thinking about how I'll have to see him again, who knows how soon or how many times, and I just…" His voice cracked and he took a calming breath to slow down.

Len had taken a stool next to Barry and used the pause in conversation to slide an arm around his shoulders so he knew he could use Len for support. Barry did so, accepting Len's embrace gladly as he leaned into his side.

Barry had been given enough advice for one night. What he needed now was a break.

"You hungry?" Len asked.

" _Starving_ ," Barry said.

"Want to order a pizza?"

A helpless chuckle left the kid. "Not exactly the best pairing for that beer you brought."

"Beer is always good with pizza, Barry, that's Irresponsible Adolescence 101."

Another chuckle, followed by Barry peering up at Len fondly for making him laugh after so much drama and heartache today. "Okay. You order, I'll open the beer."

"You sure you want another?" Len nodded at the empty bottles.

Weary as he was, Barry looked at Len with clear eyes. "As long as I can share it with you."

The bomber was only enough for a glass each anyway, but Len still watched closely to be sure Barry didn't dip into intoxicated or grab another beer afterward. People thought they wanted oblivion in situations like this, but it was rarely the right call.

To his surprise, while Barry seemed to hit a nice buzz from the combination of what he'd drank previously and Len's offering, his eyes stayed focused, only his smile and posture proving he'd finally relaxed. The pizza arrived before they finished half their pours, and the last few sips paired perfectly with pepperoni, sausage, and sundried tomatoes.

They'd moved to the table when the food arrived, each in their customary chairs. Music played in the background now to cover any silences, and Len's blazer hung over the chair behind him. He'd removed his tie as well, rolled up and shoved into his jacket pocket because it seemed too stuffy for a night like this.

It was after Barry had downed his last swallow of beer and stared blankly at the empty glass, a little too far away and melancholic, that Len asked a dangerous question.

"Do you still love him?"

Green eyes blinked at him in surprise, " _No_. I don't…think I do. I don't want to…" then clenched shut to stay the stubborn tears he'd been holding back. "Why do we _ever_ love people we shouldn't?"

Len had asked himself that question far too many times. "It's not our choice who we love. Sometimes it's automatic. Love. Loyalty. But nobody's owed love, Barry, not even blood. Believe me, I know."

"You do?" Barry looked at him curiously.

Maybe _that_ question was the dangerous one, because it prompted a response from Len he'd never told any client. Yet with Barry, it seemed natural to undo the next few buttons on his shirt and tug it and his sweater down to show the faint line of his most prominent scar.

"Harrison broke your arm. I knew a man like him once. Broken collarbone, courtesy of dear old _dad_."

The lingering haze of alcohol cleared from Barry's gaze. "Is he…?"

"Alive. In jail, actually."

"I'm sorry," Barry said with laudable earnestness.

"It's where he belongs." Len said, shifting his shirt back into place.

"What about your mother?" Barry asked, loose enough now to have less of a filter and not realize it.

Tonight should be about Barry. The evening was paid—it should always be about Barry. Not that Barry hadn't asked Len personal questions before. Len had told him plenty of stories about Lisa, even Mick, without going into anything about his friend's clients, but he'd always managed to avoid talking about his parents. Now, he didn't want to hold back, because Barry hadn't held back with him.

"I was about the age you were when your parents died…when my mother left. Lisa was only a year then. She doesn't remember Mom at all. She says that made it easier, because she never had someone to miss. Maybe that's true, maybe she's just good at making me feel better. Between Mom leaving and Dad being in and out of prison all my life, I kept it together focusing on my sister. Once Lisa could take care of herself, I got as far away from my father as possible."

Len wished _he_ had another drink about now, even debated going to the fridge to get one, but that wasn't how this evening should end. Still, he couldn't help the way the expression on Barry's face made old resentments curdle in his stomach, because he didn't need anyone's pity.

"I know what you're thinking—ah, no wonder he sells himself with a messed up background like that," Len huffed a bitter laugh, too honest in Barry's company when the kid deserved better than his baggage.

"I'd never think that," Barry said with a look that maybe wasn't pity, but Len wasn't sure if he could trust what he read there. "I don't think it's wrong what you do. That's not why I don't want you to…" His cheeks flushed as he glanced away, obviously meaning Len's more common escort duties. "But it's not something I'd ever shame you for. I know you stay safe. The agency makes sure of that. It's just a livelihood like anything else. As long as you enjoy what you do. As long as you're happy."

Just like Lisa kept saying, because Len insisted he _was_ happy. Barry wasn't appeasing Len, he meant those words, but Len's response should have been automatic if it was true— _I am happy. I love what I do._

Those words didn't come as easily anymore.

"I was never…good enough for my old man," Len said, raw and open like _he_ was the one on beer three for the night. "Never made him happy. Never got any praise. Never _mattered_. Doing what I do now, I give people what they need, and no one ever looks at me like I haven't pleased them. I know that's messed up," he looked toward Barry's view of the city, "but I like being that for someone."

"It's not messed up. It's sweet," Barry said. "Maybe a little sad, but sweet. You make _me_ happier." Flushing a darker scarlet, he glanced away again as soon as Len looked at him, sober enough to recognize his missing filter even if he was buzzed enough not to be able to control it. He seemed to come to terms with that though when his eyes flicked up. "You know, if I'm being honest with myself, I don't think I ever really loved Harrison. I just thought I did, because I didn't know what love was supposed to feel like yet."

Len could definitely use another drink, but as he struggled with what to say in response, the playlist over the sound system beat him to it. "You Don't Know Me" started to play but it wasn't the Ray Charles version or any of the others Len knew, though it was still sung in a smooth, male voice.

 _You give your hand to me  
And then you say, "Hello."  
And I can hardly speak,  
My heart is beating so_

Barry leaned back and smiled as he listened. "You know what we've never done at all those fancy events?"

"Hm?"

" _Dance_. Will you dance with me, Len?"

Len laughed, but he couldn't say no to such an innocent request. "Okay, Barry," he said, and stood to offer him a hand.

Giggling himself, Barry accepted it and let Len pull him into the open space of the apartment leading toward the living room. Len slid his right hand around Barry's waist, but Barry shrugged him off and grabbed his right hand to stretch it outward.

"No, _I_ lead," he said, like a pouting child.

"And why is that?"

"I'm taller."

Len snorted. "By a quarter inch maybe."

"Still counts," Barry said, holding firm to Len's hand and sliding his arm around Len's waist instead. "Larger person leads."

 _Len_ was larger, even if only slightly, regardless of that quarter inch, but he conceded and rested his free hand on Barry's shoulder. "All right, but just so you're prepared, I don't know how to do this backwards."

"I can do both," Barry said, "so I'll just have to teach you how to follow." The glow to Barry's cheeks brought on by the alcohol or otherwise made it impossible to refuse him.

"Then lead on, Scarlet."

 _No you don't know the one  
Who dreams of you at night;  
And longs to kiss your lips  
And longs to hold you tight_

Barry led Len into a simple foxtrot to follow the song, but even though Len stepped forward several times and nearly crushed the poor kid's feet, Barry didn't falter, merely leaned into Len so he stepped where he was meant to.

"How does a data scientist know how to dance so well?"

"I took ballroom in college," Barry said. "I loved it. Haven't gotten to show off my skills much lately though."

They swayed and turned and moved across the floor, smoother with every verse.

 _You give your hand to me,  
And then you say, "Goodbye."  
I watched you walk away,  
Beside the lucky guy_

Len had always loved and hated this song, because it was beautiful but sad. A tale of missed chances, of opportunities not taken. But Barry was right here, in his arms, their bodies touching in time with each step. Barry pulled him closer, near enough that their cheeks brushed.

Humming along with the song, he revealed a lovely voice to go with those dancing skills. There were still so many surprises he had in store for Len.

 _Oh, you'll never ever know  
The one who loved you so…_

Barry was stronger than he believed of himself. He'd still be _slaying_ this new chapter in his life if not for Harrison showing up to toss everything into chaos. Barry just needed to be reminded of that, of how precious and powerful he was, how worthy of the _love_ that Harrison had never truly given him.

Their hands drew inward, trapped between their chests, with Len's other hand at Barry's neck, urging him closer until their foreheads pressed tight. Barry's humming faded and the music began to drift into the next song…just as Len pushed past that last inch separating them and met his lips to Barry's.

* * *

Len was _kissing him_. Barry almost tripped forward and toppled them both to the floor, but thankfully he froze instead and only for a moment, just long enough to turn any remaining attempts at dancing into swaying in place and then just…kissing.

"The Way You Look Tonight" overtook the previous song as Barry's lips parted and he felt Len's tongue press the advantage. It made him tremble to finally taste him, coffee and chocolate like the beer they'd shared and so _good_.

Barry's head was that perfect haze of cotton and clarity. His grip on Len's waist tightened, just as Len's grip on his neck did too. _This_ was what he'd wanted. The way Len tilted his head to push the kiss deeper, the low noise he made in his throat, the heat from his body getting closer, it was all so thrilling, so perfect, just like last night when they hadn't tried to be anything but friends.

Unlike tonight—when Len was being _paid_.

Barry's stomach twisted like being wrung out to dry. He was _paying_ Len for this. Len was doing his _job_ right now. A normal scheduled night because Barry was a client, not a friend. They weren't friends. Barry was such a _fool_.

"S-Stop," he gasped, pushing away from Len until he nearly stumbled backwards. "I don't w-want you to d-do that. I didn't ask you to _do that_ ," he said more forcefully, not meaning to sound angry, but he was panting and flush and he couldn't _breathe_ after knowing Len's embrace like that.

Shock and distress marred Len's face, left standing there with his hands hovering to mark the spot Barry had escaped. "I'm sorry," Len said, taking a step back as well. He looked mortified—at _himself_. "I've never gone against a client's wishes before. I should…I should go." Turning on his heels, he bee-lined for his blazer on the chair.

"Wait!" Barry chased after him, but he wasn't sure what he should say. " _I'm_ sorry."

Len stopped, hand gripping the back of the chair with his jacket, and looked back at Barry over his shoulder. He always held himself together, poised and professional, but his face scrunched in this dreadful look of _misery_. "You don't need to apologize, Barry. This was my fault. It was careless of me. Habit."

 _Habit?_ Because Barry was a client and that's what Len did for his clients. "R-Right…"

How did that look of misery keep getting _worse_? "I didn't mean—"

"It's okay." Barry took a step forward because he had to fix this, even if it stung, he just wanted to fix this so Len looked at him normally again and they could pretend none of this ever happened. "You know, I don't want to think anymore tonight. Can we…can we just curl up on the sofa and watch a movie?"

Len sputtered a laugh, broken and false sounding. "Sure, Barry. We can do that." He turned to face him fully, but his hand hadn't left the back of the chair, and it was gripping so _hard_. "Whatever you want."

 _Whatever he wants_ , because Barry was the client.

It stung worse when Len started to take off his sweater, assuming Barry meant—

" _No_ ," he held out a hand for Len to stop. "Just…like this. I want to stay dressed tonight. Okay?"

Everything Barry said, everything he tried to do to reset them just seemed to make things worse. Len's hands dropped to his sides and his expression schooled into something managed and cold. It was _awful_. "Okay, Barry."

"S-Stop that," Barry sniffled, unable to hold back the tears rushing to the surface. "I'm s-sorry, please don't l-look at me like that, I didn't _m-mean_ —"

All at once, a blur swooped toward him, Len moving so quickly as that stony mask dropped away to bring back the _misery_ , but at least he soon had his arms wrapped around Barry to pull him closer. " _Hey_ , shhh…"

Barry sobbed into Len's shoulder harder than he had their first night together, holding him back so tightly, he feared he'd bruise Len, but he couldn't help it. He always made things worse. He always made everything _worse_. But for weeks Len had helped him believe that maybe he could get a few things right.

"It's okay, Barry. I'm sorry. We'll start over, okay?" Len said with the softness and understanding Barry was used to. "Quiet night, just you and me, anything you want. I didn't mean to upset you, I was just angry at myself for making you uncomfortable. It's okay."

"R-Really?" Barry nuzzled Len's neck, wishing he wasn't leaving the man's shoulder so damp.

" _Really_. Come on." He smiled when he lifted Barry from his shoulder and brushed the tears from beneath his eyes.

They sat on the sofa with Barry tucked against Len's side, tears slowly drying. Barry pulled up the _Godzilla_ movie he'd found, which should have been wonderfully silly, and they did laugh and point out moments they loved to each other, but it all felt tainted now, stifled in layers of things left unsaid.

Barry wished he could recapture what they had last night. He _wanted_ to kiss Len, but not when it was paid for, not when it was required. Despite the lengths he'd thought they made before, he didn't know where they stood now.

It was the first time they ended a paid night without shedding any clothing, and instead of feeling light and hopeful when Len left, Barry felt hollowed out and empty.

He'd ruined everything after all. Even if Len wanted to kiss Barry outside of business, outside of money and obligation, he wouldn't want that after tonight. There was a cavern between them that Barry had deepened because he was too insecure to ask for what he wanted, even up to the moment when Len left with that same press of lips to Barry's cheek but without any of the same hope.

* * *

Len knew now that he couldn't have his heart's desire, because when he'd tried to take it, that's when Barry, for all his understanding and attempts to care for Len without judgment, for one unfair moment remembered what Len was…and recoiled.

* * *

TBC...


	7. Chapter 7

It was the first time Barry had ever seen someone punch the bag _off_ the hook—and he was the one who'd done it. He hadn't even been picturing Harrison's face, much as it would have been justified.

He'd been picturing his own.

"Everything all right, Barry?" Laurel asked, retrieving the punching bag from the floor and hefting it up with impressive ease. He helped her lift it higher to re-hang on the hook.

"Not really," he admitted when he couldn't avoid looking back at her, and went on to explain in as few words as possible how Harrison was in town and making his life miserable again. Barry left out that his bad mood was more focused on interactions with someone else.

"Let's work on your disarming techniques," Laurel said without much comment on Harrison's appearance. "You've been getting better, but it's an important skill to master. Most people won't mug you with only their fists."

"Okay..."

Waiting for her to retrieve a rubber practice knife, Barry followed her out onto the mat. Each time she came at him brandishing the weapon, he dodged, deflected, or attempted to take the knife from her. He was fairly skilled now at succeeding when attacked from the front or side, but from behind it was still a challenge. He always tripped up in ways that would have seriously cut him if the knife was real.

"Wait…just…let me clear my head," Barry huffed after his third failed attempt to thwart her.

"Your head won't be clear in a real attack, Barry."

"I know, but—"

" _Instinct_. Confidence. Try again."

Two more times Barry failed. Then two times in a row…he succeeded. On the next attempt, he felt more self-assured, but as he readied himself for Laurel's assault, it wasn't the knife he felt at his back but a hold on his left arm.

Alarm bells sounded in Barry's head, accompanied by something he didn't expect, because it wasn't fear that surged through him, it was anger.

Not recognizing the howl that left him until he spun, Barry whirled Laurel around and pulled her tight to his chest. The knife dropped from her slackened grip and he kicked her feet out from under her to slam her down to the ground. Glaring at her panting, _grinning_ face, he realized with a rush what he'd just done.

"I'm sorry!" he reeled back, before lurching forward again to help her up.

"Sorry?" she let out a boisterous laugh as she accepted the offered hand. "That's what I've been _waiting_ for, Barry. You did it."

"I…did?" He blinked around them as if some other evidence needed to be discovered, but the proof had all been there in the motion of his reflexes. "I _did_ ," he said with an ever-widening smile.

After a supportive touch to his arm like always, Laurel ended the gesture with a firm pat on his shoulder. "And you're going to do it at least two more times before I let you go today."

 _Urg_. Laurel was the best, but she was also a little evil sometimes.

Instead of only two, Barry succeeded four out of five more times disarming her when she went for his weak spot, and the one time he missed, he'd still managed to knock the knife away. It was a small but important win in what felt like a sea of losses.

"Len's coming to the gala on Saturday, right?"

A sea Barry choked on when he remembered his biggest loss—though the water he'd been drinking going down the wrong pipe didn't help. "Uh…yeah."

Barry had scheduled Len weeks ago for that event, so technically it was still planned, even though it would be the first time he and Len would see each other since last night. The next two days Len was booked, and Barry felt the lack of him—and resented his time with other clients—more acutely than ever before.

"I thought things were turning around for you two. Did something happen?" Laurel asked. Her husband was on the state medical board, so they'd be at the gala as well. Barry loved the various ways his life intersected, like he was right where he should be, like it was _fate_ , but the next few days felt rife with catastrophe because of how many pieces might collide.

Originally, the gala was an excuse to have a Palmer Tech and Smoak Industries celebration to publically announce the joint venture—combining efforts to usher in the next era in paralysis treatment and gene therapy for all sorts of ailments, maybe even curing chronic illnesses that previously had no lasting treatments. This time Barry _would_ need black tie. But that wasn't the problem. Given the involvement of STAR Labs going forward, Harrison would definitely be there. In the same room as Barry—and Len.

Assuming Barry didn't cancel. Or Len beat him to it.

"I think I ruined things," he said, always so easily honest with Laurel because she had this way of looking through people without holding any judgment for what they might say.

"You _think_ you did?" she repeated. "Barry, you know what would probably help with that?"

"You don't even know what happened."

"Doesn't matter. It's usually the same answer. _Talk to him_ ," she pushed Barry playfully in the shoulder, causing him to chuckle miserably at the obvious but overwhelming suggestion. "He's a good guy, Barry. He's one of my sister's best friends, and she has very discerning taste. Plus, he obviously cares about you."

"I know." But what if they didn't care about each other the same way?

"If it's confidence you're lacking, I think it's time you took a long look at yourself in the mirror."

Leading Barry by the elbow, Laurel directed him in front of a full-length mirror on the wall of the gym. He was sweaty, hair wilted, glasses smudged, but he couldn't deny how much more he filled out his damp Voltron T-shirt than he had a couple months ago.

"You're not the same man who walked away from Harrison Wells and uprooted your whole life. You are _even stronger_ than you were then."

She always said it like that—that he'd been strong all the way back on that night when he felt his weakest. Len said it too, that Barry was braver than he knew. Maybe they were right and his biggest flaw was not believing it.

Squeezing his arm once more, Laurel stepped out of view to leave Barry with his reflection. It wasn't just the added muscle he'd acquired from training that was different, he was independent now, successful, forming new relationships, and every last bit of it, he'd _earned_. He'd surpassed his fears in ways he never thought possible. He _had_ changed, despite a few stumbles.

The last thing he wanted was to allow Harrison to ruin everything he'd built. But more than that, he didn't want _himself_ to ruin it either.

Laurel was right. He needed to talk to Len.

* * *

Barry had been messaging Len all day but didn't want to talk over the phone. Len had to reiterate that his schedule was booked until the party on Saturday, which wasn't a deflection. He had both Prince and Piper this week. There was very little time to see Barry, and he hated the idea of popping in to see him right before either of those clients.

He wouldn't be able to get Barry out of his head if he did that.

He couldn't get him out of his head now.

Barry probably wanted to cancel Len's services, but his good nature meant he wanted to explain in person. The kid didn't mean to judge, he hadn't _meant_ to recoil from Len's kiss, Len knew that and what a sweet, accepting young man he was. But Barry still didn't want to kiss someone who slept with people for money. If they couldn't get over that hurdle during one of the most intimate moments they'd ever shared, there was no getting over it in the future.

 _I'll try to make time, Barry, but it might not be possible until Saturday._

 _That's okay! I understand. I just really want to talk to you. Don't forget black tie!_

At least Barry wasn't breaking their date for the gala, but Len was certain it would be their last evening together. Maybe they could still be friends, but even if Barry wasn't planning to end things, Len wasn't sure how much longer he could see Barry as an escort when he felt this way about him.

 _Worse_ was how that longing followed him to Prince's door.

Personal life was never meant to be carried to the 'office'. That stayed at home, always. But Len couldn't shake it, and Prince wasn't the type to miss even the slightest distraction.

The slow trail of her fingernails paused along their course up his thigh. "Leonard?" she prompted with a curious tone, "you are far away tonight. Our time together is hardly enjoyable with you so empty."

She was a vision in black lingerie, sheer lace up from her bra to a high collar around her neck, with a full garter belt and thigh-high stockings. Her long dark hair hung about her shoulders as she straddled him, tied with scarves to the bedposts but not yet blindfolded or gagged like she had planned.

Usually, Len was hard by now even with his underwear still on, anticipating the games she'd play that he had reveled in for far more months than he'd known Barry.

"You'll have to punish me, my dear," he said with a wicked grin to banish his hesitation, "for daring to let my mind wander."

Prince had a lovely smile for all the fierce power in her eyes. "Usually, I would agree with you, but I think I know where your mind has gone," she drew those same fingernails gently down the side of his face, "and I cannot compete. The beautiful boy with the innocent smile, yes?"

Len felt a shred of alarm enter his calm façade.

"People do take pictures at those events, Leonard," she said without any ill will.

Of course. He'd been in enough public spaces with Barry for his clients to have caught on, but he'd always prided himself on keeping each of them separate and special unto themselves. "When I'm with you," he rushed to assure her, "you are all I—"

" _Shush_. Don't disrespect me with lies no one would buy." Grabbing his chin, she held firm, dominant without ever being rough. "At first, I found it curious, but your attention was still on me when I had you in my bed. Now it is with him, and I do not believe I can win you back."

While Len struggled for how to respond, she held his gaze, but before he could say anything, she released him and swung her leg off his hips to leave the bed.

"Diana…" he protested as she moved to untie the scarves.

"I can find another partner, Leonard. My needs are more easily met than what you desire to fill the emptiness in your eyes. Go home. Your payment is still yours for tonight." She was the picture of ease considering the position they'd been in moments before, her hands swift but kind while undoing his bonds. "We do not control where our hearts wander. Perhaps you have a recommendation for a replacement?"

Len knew Prince had a temper when it came to matters of personal justice or her people while working as an ambassador. He'd overheard a few severe conversations over the phone in various languages. But in situations like this, she was picturesque and admirable, which was part of why he'd accepted her as a client to begin with.

He sat up in bed after he was free, feeling strangely small and naked, considering his shorts had never left him.

"I…yes. Several," he said. He could think of at least three escorts who would suit Prince well, but he knew he'd disappointed her. She slipped on a red robe, tied loosely at her waist, and twisted her hair up into a swift bun, while her eyes traced his body with a hunger he'd always adored. "My apologies."

"You have nothing to apologize for. You always pleased me," she said, coming forward to sit beside him. "I would not want our last meeting to sully those nights together."

He'd let Barry into his head, let him disrupt his routine, his _work_ , yet he was relieved Diana had called him on it. Still, it stung because, "I can't have him the way I want."

"No? Perhaps you are wrong, perhaps not. Either way, you aren't here tonight, so go," she reached for his face once more to feather fingers along his cheek, "be alone with your desires until you decide which to pursue. If you darken my door again, I will welcome you. If not…" Leaning forward, she used the barest pressure to draw Len toward her and kissed him soundly in goodbye. "I hope it means you found something worthwhile."

* * *

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about this guy right away." Cisco was worse than Iris sometimes when it came to petulance over being left out of the loop. Or, Barry supposed, _lied to_.

"I didn't know what I wanted when I first started seeing him," Barry defended. "There was nothing to tell."

"Seeing an escort on the regular is a _thing to tell_ your best friend."

"I did tell you. Eventually."

Barry was at Palmer Tech again, ready to head home as he navigated the hallways and only talking hushed with Cisco over the phone because his friend had been sending anxious texts ever since their previous call was interrupted by Len's arrival the other night. There were rumors going around the office that Barry had slept his way to his last position and was doing the same here— _and_ at Smoak Industries. He didn't need anyone overhearing his phone conversation about an escort when some people were already whispering about Len.

"Let me find a quiet corner," he cut Cisco off from questioning him further. Normally, he'd tell his friend to call back later, but he needed another opinion. His mind had only been half on work for the past two days.

There were several quiet corners in both tech companies that Barry had discovered, both for recharge time when he needed to clear his mind, or for fielding phone calls like this. He just needed to reach one, which happened to take him by the main conference room with clear glass walls that looked directly inside.

Where _Harrison_ was meeting with more of the development team.

"Harry's here," Barry skidded to a stop.

"Right now? Tell him I will kick his ass if—"

"He's in a meeting, Cisco," Barry hissed into the phone. "Shit, it's ending. He saw me."

And he had the gall to smile all sweet and handsome and hopeful at Barry through the glass.

 _Dick_.

 _No_ , Barry was the bigger man. He was giving Harrison the benefit of the doubt. He just didn't want to talk to him—ever. So, he nodded curtly and hurried on his way while returning to the conversation over the phone.

"Have you talked to him yet?" Cisco asked.

"Not since he ambushed me at work the first time."

"No, I mean _Len_."

Barry sighed at the thought. Two days felt like forever with only emails between them. "Not yet. I need to see him in person, but he's been…booked."

"Sleeping with other people," Cisco said.

"It's what he _does_."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"Not on principle." Barry clutched his phone a little tighter, trying to keep his voice soft with tight smiles given to the few people he passed. "Just the thought of anyone else touching him…"

" _Barry_ ," Cisco admonished.

"I know, okay? This is a mess. But when you love someone, you have to let them live the life they want, not have them cater to what you'd make of them." It was one of Laurel's many poignant lessons that Barry had taken to heart, because Harrison hadn't done that for him.

"Dude, I agree with you, you know I agree with you, but…did you just say you _love_ him?"

Barry stopped in his tracks like he had when he saw Harry, then realized he'd come upon one of his favorite hidden nooks and ducked into it, a tiny hallway with a bathroom no one used and a stairwell for emergencies and fire drills. He couldn't deny how easily that admission had left him.

"Shit. I _am_ in love with him."

" _Shit_ ," Cisco agreed.

Barry had the sudden feeling that someone was nearing his hiding spot, listening in or watching, but when he peered back out into the hallway, he didn't see any obvious bodies or shadows looming. He must be imagining things.

"If you really love this guy and being with him is what you want," Cisco continued, "I'll support you, man. I just don't want to see you hurt again. All those years with Harry…"

"I know. But Len isn't Harry," Barry said with conviction, even if part of him had chosen Len because of his age and poise and style being similar. Everything else about him was solely Len, and those were the things Barry loved. "If I love him, it has to mean I'll love him even if he only wants to be friends. Or if he does feel the same but wants to keep doing his job. I wish I could have him all to myself," he leaned his head back against the wall and imagined how wonderful that would be, "but as long as he could be mine because he wants to be with me, I think I could be okay with him being an escort forever."

* * *

Len could not be an escort forever. Right now, he didn't want to be one at all.

He had to see Piper tonight. He and Barry hadn't even _talked_ yet and he had no idea where they stood, but the last thing he wanted was for anyone other than Barry to touch him, especially after being let off the hook with Prince.

He'd forgone the usual errands he'd attend to during the day and secluded himself in his apartment ever since she sent him home. He knew what he wanted, but he doubted it would matter if Barry was planning to drop him after this weekend. If there was some dramatic gesture he could carry out to change that, he'd try anything, but he couldn't rely on his usual seductions with Barry. Everything was so much harder when _feelings_ were involved.

A knock at the door surprised Len. He'd wasted the day away debating what to do. Soon he'd have to get ready to see Piper, since calling in sick was not an option.

Heading for the door, Len assumed it was mail put in someone else's box or some other bland interruption, but he realized his mistake when he yanked the door open to find _Mick_ on the other side.

"I pulled the plug."

"What?" Len gawked, having no idea what he was talking about.

" _Frost_." Mick pushed past him into the apartment, more animated than usual, which was saying something for _Mick_. "I told her I loved her, then went straight to _Nick of Time_ to give up my last client and told Rip to _shove it_ if he has a problem."

Len pivoted slowly after shutting the door behind Mick, gawk far more prominent. "You're _quitting_?"

"Course not," Mick snorted. "I love this gig. Just stickin' to actual escort clients from now on. Caity wouldn't ask me to change, but I wanna be all hers—only hers. Told her that, told her what I wanted…and _damn_ can that girl kiss."

It was impossible to keep the smile from Len's face when he saw the way Mick lit up talking about her. "Caity?" he called him on the casual drop of his client's real name.

Mick sobered, then shrugged like he'd come this far and there was no reason to hold back. "Caitlin. Doll's a _doctor_."

Len chuckled. He and Mick didn't _share_ , they exchanged crib notes more than the deep recesses of their hearts, but it was oddly _freeing_. "Barry," he said to keep them even. "The kid busy saving Star City."

" _Allen?_ " Mick sputtered after turning that over in his mind. "Shit, he's Scarlet, huh?"

"Apparently, we're in at least one society article together."

"Like I read that shit," Mick said, though the air felt clearer between them now with several things that had been left unsaid finally spoken. "Good on you though. Wait, so _yer_ quitting?"

"No," Len answered reflexively, finally moving away from the door. Then he had to think about that. "I don't know. I don't think he wants me. I want him, but he…he backed away like my lips gave him freezer burn."

They didn't share, it wasn't the sort of friends they were, at least not without a few shots between them, but still Mick asked, "What happened?"

So Len told him—everything about the night he finally stole a kiss. "He means well, but he can't see past what I am."

"That is the stupidest shit I ever heard," Mick said.

"He didn't want to kiss me, Mick," Len barked. "I pushed, with a client, against the arrangement we'd made, and he backed off like he couldn't get away fast enough."

"Yeah, coz it was a _paid_ night, idiot."

"That's what I'm saying," Len rallied back. "He doesn't want to be with someone who sells themselves, no matter how much as a friend he wishes it didn't bother him."

"Or," Mick leaned menacingly into Len's space, "he didn't want to kiss you on a night he paid you coz he was afraid that was the only reason you did it."

The air rushed out of Len's lungs even as he opened his mouth to counter Mick. Floundering for how to reply, all the obvious pieces formed into a clearer picture so that eventually nothing could be said other than, "I'm an idiot."

"Yer an idiot."

"I'm seeing Piper tonight," he gaped at Mick wide-eyed. "I _can't_ see Piper tonight."

"Listen, pal," Mick picked up on the rational side since, for once, Len was the one flailing, "Rip's gonna be pissed. Maybe Piper too. But yer head's already outta the game. You got it bad. Time ya did somethin' about it."

"Easy for you to say. Your gamble paid off."

"Well I am prettier than you," Mick smirked insufferably, encompassing everything Len loved about his friend, "but I'm sure the universe'll give ya a break."

Pretty was not one of Mick's traits, but somehow he was almost never wrong, observant bastard that he was, and if he could admit when he'd fallen for a client, who was Len to pretend otherwise or deny the evidence that Barry might want him in return? It didn't mean the universe had his back, but it did mean that thoughts of Barry didn't merely follow Len to Piper's door like they had with Prince, they led the way.

He'd been practicing since the moment he left home how to let the young musician down and explain that they would _not_ be going through their normal routine tonight. Len even had a few replacements at the ready. The trick would be getting ahead of any arguments. Sure, he had the power to drop any client he wished at any time, but he owed Piper more than that after so long together, never a disappointment, never a problem. He didn't want things to end sourly between them.

Mouth poised to talk instead of kiss the boy breathless as soon as the door opened, Len's words were stolen by the sight of Piper. Normally, he answered his door in simple clothing, maybe even a robe, since he'd be showering for the concert after their encounter, but tonight Piper was smartly dressed and already smelling of aftershave.

"Heading to the concert early?" Len asked, though Piper wasn't wearing his tux. He didn't look surprised though like he'd forgotten Len was coming.

"I don't have a concert tonight," he said with a mischievous grin.

"You don't?" _Shit_ , if Piper had his heart set on _experimenting_ with Len, he was going to be much harder to let down gently.

"Come here, handsome. Let's chat."

Len should head this off now and explain before the kid went into detail about the carnal activities he had in mind that none of it was going to happen. He wasn't prepared for what Piper actually said once they sat on the sofa.

"I want a job."

"Excuse me?" Len tried to process that statement. "Doing what?"

"With _you_. I want a job at the agency."

"You…" For a moment, Len was utterly floored. Then all the ways Piper tried to immerse himself in anything his parents deemed _unseemly_ came to the forefront of his mind, and he stared back at the young man unimpressed. "We don't take bratty kids who just want to piss off Mommy and Daddy."

"Please." Piper was hardly fazed by Len throwing that in his face. "That's just a bonus. I'm done with the philharmonic. I want more freedom with my schedule and entertainment for my evenings—with a paycheck. Of course it means we wouldn't see each other anymore, which would be a huge loss," he trailed his fingers down Len's arm, "though…maybe…?"

"I don't sleep with coworkers," Len put that notion to bed, much as he appreciated the kid's pluck. "A working relationship would be the end for us. Though I suppose I could help you get started, find the right clientele for an initial spread, put in a good word with the CEO…"

It was crazy, a client asking for a referral to _become_ an escort, but if anyone could do it, Len had to admit that Piper was a prime candidate. Not only was he attractive, he was also well-educated, well-dressed, and very well-versed in the bedroom.

"You're serious?" Len pressed. "Because I wouldn't offer a recommendation if I didn't think you'd make an excellent addition to the catalog, but I also need to know this isn't just some game."

"I'm serious," Piper nodded eagerly.

Maybe the universe _was_ on Len's side for once. He wished he could rush right over to Barry's apartment, free and clear now of all his clients, but their reunion would have to wait. Tonight Len had to make his exit plan, and being able to offer Piper as a replacement would ease Rip's reaction significantly.

"Your evening's free?" Len asked.

"All yours," Piper waggled an eyebrow.

 _None of that._ Not anymore. But there was definitely work to be done. "Then listen up, coz I'm taking you in tomorrow morning and you need to be ready to impress the boss."

* * *

Part of Barry had hoped Len would be able to see him before the gala. Another part was glad he'd had more time to think about what to say, especially since he'd purposely gotten a new tux without Len's help—though he had used Carter's—so he could surprise him. He wanted to make _Len's_ jaw drop for once.

It was just a normal tux, simple black with a white shirt, but it fit him flawlessly, very James Bond. Barry had debated wearing his gold glasses again, but decided the black ones made more sense with black tie. He'd gotten a haircut, brunette poof coifed to perfection, wore new cologne, had on his nicest watch. He looked _good_. Even he could admit that for once.

A timely knock at the door finally came, and Barry took a breath before opening it that immediately caught in his throat.

Len was stunning. He also wore a black tux, but his shirt was deep navy. The glasses were back for his 'Wynters' persona as Barry's publicist, and the grey wool coat Barry remembered from their first meeting pulled it all together beautifully.

Yet, as gorgeous as he looked, Barry had succeeded, because this time Len stood gaping too.

"Well _done_ , Barry. You'll turn every head at the party."

"Y-You too."

Common sense fled Barry when he was this nervous, so the déjà vu continued as he forgot to invite Len in right away but kept staring. With a chuckle as he caught himself and gestured Len inside, the awkward pause that stretched between was near unbearable until both he and Len started speaking at the same time.

"Look, I'm sorry for how I—"

"Barry, I need you to understand—"

They both cut off, laughed at how ridiculous they were being, such a terrible _cliché_ , and tried again.

"You first," Len said.

All of Barry's practicing amounted to a single phrase. "I'm sorry I made things weird."

"I'm sorry _I_ did."

"It wasn't because of your job."

"I know. I'm sorry that, for a moment, I thought otherwise." Taking Barry's hand with slow, telegraphed movements, Len lifted it to his lips and kissed the back of Barry's fingers, causing him to blush deeply scarlet. "Why don't we pretend that evening between friends happened only last night and _tonight_ …is also unpaid."

"What?" Barry's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "You don't have to—"

"I _want_ to enjoy tonight as friends, Barry. So we know that anything that happens is only what we both want." Dropping Barry's hand between them, Len held on to his fingertips, blue eyes centered on him with no mask or guile. "Then later, after the gala, when we have more time, there are some things I want to discuss with you. Okay?"

"Good things?" Barry asked, as a small chill prickled goosebumps along his arms beneath the tux.

"I hope so," Len smiled softly.

Barry's heart was beating so fast, he almost surged forward to kiss Len right then. But no. Not yet. _After_ they talked, which he was suddenly very much looking forward to. "O-Okay."

Like a true gentleman, when Len at last released Barry's fingers, he offered his arm instead. "Shall we?"

Barry grabbed his own long wool coat from the rack by the door and accepted Len's arm feeling the heavy weight on his shoulders finally dissipate.

This part they had down—attending an event together, wowing the crowd, mostly with Len doing the wowing and Barry playing catch-up, but they balanced each other well.

The gala was in a real ballroom, dazzling with colored lights, men in their tuxes, women in gowns. There was even dancing, another nod from the universe that Barry thought unfair and all too tempting.

Since the event was buzzing with Smoak and Palmer employees, every time someone's eyes landed on him, he wondered if their whispers were those same rumors circulating. He'd been thinking hard about that problem too.

"As your publicist, I advise you to get ahead of these rumors…by admitting to them," Len said when he noticed the tension in Barry's shoulders after another group of people kept staring.

"I was thinking the same thing," Barry said. "Not about _you_. I'd never—"

"Preferably, you'll avoid breaking the contract you signed with _Nick of Time_ , but if you ever needed to…" Len trailed off, giving Barry an out he never intended to use.

"That's not what I meant. I think—"

"Barry!" Felicity's voice cut through the crowd, and seeing as how she—and Ray trailing beside her—were the guests of honor, everyone parted to let them through. Somehow, even though the two CEOs weren't touching each other, there was an air of Felicity having dragged Ray there by the ear.

"Everything okay?" Barry asked.

" _Raymond_ would like to apologize," Felicity said succinctly.

"Umm…" Barry blinked in confusion, "…okay. What did—"

"I never would have agreed to meet with Wells if I knew you used to _date_ him," Ray blurted.

 _Oh god_. The rumors had reached Ray? Or was it just that Felicity had always known? The look on her face said she had, whether from long before or because Curtis was, well, _Curtis_.

"I know this looks bad," Barry said, keeping the small circle of him, Len, Ray, and Felicity close-quartered, "that I slept with an executive even if he wasn't my boss, but I swear we started dating _before_ I worked at STAR Labs. Which…actually looks _worse_ …" he realized with a grimace.

"Barry," Felicity spoke up, "I'm married to the mayor. You think they haven't tried crucifying us for nepotism on occasion. People will always talk. I couldn't care _less_ —"

"Same here!" Ray said emphatically. "We know you earned your place, Barry. Your work proves that and so does your integrity. Exes can be a messy business, especially office romances. Was it messy?" he dropped his voice lower. "Is he trying to make trouble for you?"

"Because if he's threatened you in any way—" Felicity jumped in.

" _No_. He hasn't." The pair of them were actually very sweet, but Barry had to shut this down. "It _was_ messy, but he hasn't done anything to warrant ignoring the proposal. We should move forward with STAR Labs."

"Are you sure?" Felicity questioned.

"This is a huge endeavor," Barry looked between them, thankful for the calming presence of Len at his side while he addressed them. "I can't let my love life get in the way of that."

The two CEOs seemed assuaged, but Felicity still crossed her arms with prominent authority. "Just remember my husband is the mayor if you need someone killed."

Barry chuckled, "I don't want Harry _dead_ ," much as he may have fantasized about some horrible accident befalling him.

"I meant _Ray_ ," she glared at her counterpart.

Hunched in on himself from his usually towering height, Ray looked like a scolded child. "There are several social cues I've been told I need to work on. I'm really sorry, Barry."

So many people were looking out for him. Barry had always had people looking out for him, and he appreciated that more than he'd ever be able to tell them. But now it was time for him to look out for himself.

"Thank you. All of you. But actually, I was just about to get Len's opinion on something. I have an interview tomorrow at your offices," he said to Felicity. "I think I should tell the truth about dating Harrison. _Publically_. I've been giving it a lot of thought, and it's the only way to avoid more rumors—by owning them."

Barry didn't expect Len to argue the point, but Ray and Felicity surprised him by not countering him either.

"Whatever you want, Barry."

"We'll support you."

It reminded him why he'd wanted to work with their companies in the first place.

When the pair finally headed back into the crowd to continue playing hosts, Len leaned in close to Barry to keep his voice hushed. "Are you also going to admit what he did to you?"

"No," Barry turned to him, a mix of sorrow and resolution in his eyes. "Maybe he _is_ a snake, but if he means all this about making it up to me, I don't want to ruin him just for some petty vengeance. Admitting we dated looks bad enough, but most people won't care after a week. I have another chance here in Star City. Part of me hopes he can find that too."

The look Len gave Barry was both amazed and adoring, causing a fresh blush to creep up his neck. "And another part of you wouldn't mind setting him on fire?"

Barry choked on a laugh. "Do you think any of the mob bosses my program hasn't caught yet do the whole cement shoe thing?"

Len snickered with him. It was nice to make light of something that had so recently haunted him. He didn't want any ghosts from his past hovering over his future. He just wanted to move on.

Naturally, it was right then, while noticing Laurel and Tommy across the room with Curtis and Paul, that Barry also spotted Harrison headed toward them. He clutched Len's arm so tightly, the other man knew instantly what had spooked him.

"That's him?"

"Yeah."

Harrison's tux was simple too, classic and flattering at every angle. Still several yards away, his eyes were focused right on them.

"I don't think he's too happy about me," Len said.

"Really? Maybe it's not so bad. He's smiling."

"A dangerous smile, Barry. I know how to read people. If you want to steer clear—"

"No." Barry held his ground beside Len, waiting for Harrison to come to them. "I won't run scared anymore. That's the whole _point_. He says he wants to make things up to me, so I want to let him. If he's an asshole, _then_ we can set him on fire."

Len snorted, but didn't dissent, allowing this decision to be Barry's.

It felt like one of those moments in a disaster movie, when the meteor headed toward earth was just about to make impact.

"Barry," Harrison said as he reached them, eyes dragging openly down Barry's body, though not crudely so. "You wear a tux well. Never thought I'd see you in one. You hate ties."

Four years together meant Harry _knew_ him, but that didn't change anything that had happened. "A good tailor makes a big difference," he said.

"Is that who's on your arm?" Harrison's attention strayed to Len with a tighter pull on his jaw. "Your _tailor_?"

Len smiled as cordially as ever while offering Harrison his hand. "Len Wynters. Barry's publicist."

"Of course. I've heard so much about you." The meteor collided with the touch of their skin, but no explosions erupted just yet. Barry wondered if either of them fell prey to that old trick of trying to crush the other person's hand, and if they did, he really hoped Len won.

Wait, Harrison had _heard_ about Len? He'd just gotten here. "From who?" he asked.

"People talk," Harrison shrugged, shifting his gaze to Len once more. "Quite a bit actually. He must pay you well to attend all of his events like this."

"Barry is an ideal client," Len said, his own smile dangerous, if Barry was being honest, "but also a friend. And I hate to leave my friends alone in distasteful situations."

Oh Barry _loved_ Len. He really did.

"Good thing it's such a lovely party," Harrison remained unmoved, then snapped his gaze back to Barry. "Would it be too _distasteful_ to speak with you in private? It's important or I wouldn't ask."

 _Damn it._ That old shred of panic pumped through Barry, but he knew the only reason Harrison continued to have power over him was because he allowed it.

"We're still making the rounds, actually, so I'm afraid—" Len stepped in to Barry's rescue, but he couldn't let him do that anymore.

"Len. It's okay," Barry stopped him. Meeting Len's concerned expression, he pulled in close and squeezed Len's arm as he whispered, "Five minutes, so he stops hounding me. Better here than some corner at the office. But if he tries anything… _Fire_."

That garnered the appropriate response, because Len smiled back at him, but still said quite seriously, " _Five_ minutes," before letting him go.

Barry put his foot down when Harrison tried leading him out of the ballroom. He was not stepping into any dark hallways with him, _ever_ , but he compromised by ducking into an alcove that gave them the privacy Harrison wanted while still allowing Barry an easy getaway back into the throng.

"What do you want?" Barry asked sharply.

Without pause or attempt at small talk, Harrison dropped his serene expression for a look of desperation. "You can't trust that man."

 _Unbelievable_. "I came with you because I thought you were serious about being better, about not trying to manipulate me, and you immediately—"

"It's dangerous, Barry," Harrison insisted. "You can't trust him. Do you even know what he is?"

" _What_ he is? You—"

"Because I do. Check your email."

That caught Barry up short, because what game did Harrison think he was playing now? Barry had planned to warn him that he was going to admit the truth about their relationship, and right away, Harrison was back to his old tricks.

Still, out of morbid curiosity, Barry pulled his phone from his pocket to take a look. Unsurprisingly, he had a new email from Harrison. But it wasn't a message. It was a video.

"What is this?" There was no revealing thumbnail, so all Barry saw was a black screen and a play button.

"Watch it. Then you'll see."

Maybe there were more meteors headed Barry's way. He didn't want to give in to Harrison, but he pressed play anyway if only to prove whatever the man hoped to achieve here wrong.

The black screen brightened to show a bed from a wide angle. Then, moments later… _Len_ dropped down on top of it. He was half dressed and being swiftly removed of remaining clothing by another man climbing after him.

For one horrible, heart-stopping moment, Barry thought the man was _Harry_ , but even though Barry could only see the man from behind, he knew he was too broad to be Harrison, just strangely familiar.

The audio came through as breathless panting and plaintive whines like no noises Barry had ever heard from Len. Then the other man started giving… _commands_ , and Len obeyed every one without question.

 _Hands above your head._

 _Arch your neck._

 _Yes…_

 _Like that._

 _Such a beauty you are, Leonard._

 _So well behaved._

Barry wanted to throw his phone down, because he shouldn't be watching this—why did it even exist, why was that man so familiar, especially his profile when he turned toward the camera that Len obviously didn't know about—but Barry couldn't stop staring at the footage.

* * *

Len tried to keep an eye on Barry when he disappeared into the crowd, but he lost him eventually to the throng and constant movement of black tuxes and flowing dresses. He debated his options. If he followed, he'd be ignoring Barry's wishes. The last thing he wanted was to alienate Barry now.

After all, he'd _quit_ that morning.

Checking his watch, Len decided to do exactly as they'd agreed. Give him five minutes, _then_ go looking. Maybe in the meantime he could find Laurel or—

"Hello, Leonard."

 _Merlin_.

Slowly turning to stare at the man who'd snuck up on him while his mind was on Barry, Len discovered his former client looking dapper and snide as always. "Malcolm. What a _displeasure_ to see you again. Still sore about your cold bed?"

The man chuckled like nothing could move him. "Not for long," he said cryptically. "I just wanted to say 'hello'. Though I'm fairly certain soon it will be…'goodbye'." Tilting his head the direction _Barry_ had gone, he added, "That boy of yours is exquisite. Pity he ran off."

The threat was easy to interpret, but Merlin didn't head Barry's direction—he moved for the exit. Clearly, like he'd said weeks ago, _he_ wasn't the one Barry had to watch out for.

Len needed to find him. _Now_.

* * *

"Why do you have this?" Barry asked, nauseated even as he continued to watch the video on his phone. He felt lewd seeing Len stripped bare and on display, unaware of the camera as he played a more submissive role to suit this client—moaning, _begging_.

"Do you see what he is now, Barry?" Harrison's voice filtered into the tiny bubble Barry had been trapped in. "I didn't want to show you this, but I needed you to understand the truth once I realized how much trust you'd put in someone who is only playing a role."

Barry barely heard him, too focused on the video, because he knew that other man from somewhere…

" _Barry_ ," Harrison prompted louder, and suddenly a hand had hold of his chin to tilt it upward. Harrison was too close, and Barry had a wall at his back now from keeping the phone pointed away from the ballroom. "I wish I could stay away, that I could give you the space you've asked for, but you are everything to me, don't you understand that? I haven't let anyone else touch me all these months waiting for you to come home."

Trying to back out of his hold, Barry only ended up deeper into the alcove _away_ from the crowd, and Harrison pursued him. The sound of the video, the thoughts plaguing Barry that he knew the other man's face, disrupted his focus when his instincts should have been to push Harrison away from him.

"I miss you," he crowded in closer. "Don't you miss me, Barry? Don't you miss being with someone worthy of you?" And descended to steal a _kiss_.

Barry froze, and he hated himself for freezing because he'd come so _far_. He was starved for the feeling of another's lips on his, and for a brief flash of memory, he recalled why these lips were ones he'd longed for.

But now the only ones he wanted were Len's.

He didn't care about the roles Len had played in the past, because he knew the man he was with tonight was the real Len, even wearing glasses and sporting a fake name. Len wasn't defined by his job. No one was, no matter what their livelihood. Having seen that footage didn't change anything in Barry's mind about his friend other than stir up jealousy because _he_ wanted to be the one causing Len to make those noises.

The hand with the phone dropped to Barry's side, but the other came up to grip Harrison's tux, ready to shove him away…just as he remembered why that other face looked familiar.

It was Len's former client. In footage that shouldn't exist. And _Harry_ had the footage.

The _snake_. The no good, rotten—

"Always knew there was something off about that man," Len's voice interrupted before Barry could heave Harrison off of him. He pushed him away now and turned toward the ballroom where Len stood—staring at the phone in Barry's hand that was turned outward to reveal the blatant footage of…

" _No_ ," Barry pulled the screen to him to hide the telling image. But it wasn't telling! It wasn't _like that_. "Len—"

"Who'd guess it was a camera in the bedroom? Which is _against_ the contract you signed, by the way," Len smiled empty and awful just like the other night— _worse_. "Have a good rest of your evening, Barry," he said, and with a cold nod, he turned on his heel and fled.

"Len, wait! Please!" Barry lurched to move around Harrison, but the other man gripped his shoulders to hold him in place.

"Let him go. Listen to me."

"This is your fault!" Barry knocked him back, only for Harrison to raise his hands in surrender, as if, once again, Barry was the one being unreasonable.

"This is not how I planned for things to go, Barry, but all the better if it rids you of that man."

 _Planned?_

Barry stared down at the video, paused now but easily displaying the face of Len's client, as the truth rushed through calculations in his brain and the patterns fell into place—so obvious now, all the way back to the beginning.

"You _know_ him. You used him to start those rumors to make me think I still needed you. You started them weeks ago when I wouldn't email you back, it just took this long for them to pick up steam. And you only started emailing me because you saw I was moving on without you."

Shaking his head, Harrison's expression was such a perfect lie of earnest intent, but his words didn't deny what Barry had said. "None of this was to hurt you. I was trying to _protect_ you."

" _Screw you_ , Harry," Barry growled as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

A twitch of malicious truth flickered across Harry's face. "You're the one _screwing_ a prostitute. Do you know how that could ruin your career? Ruin everything you think you've built here? Yes, I know Malcolm. He has friends in many places, including at Palmer Tech and Smoak Industries. When we realized our interests connected, we saw an opportunity—"

"Because you're a snake!" Barry shouted, unable to think of Harrison as anything else. "Because using people is all you know how to do. But I'm not yours anymore, Harry, and I am never going to be yours again."

Pivoting to move out of the alcove—Barry had time, he could still catch Len—he was ready to leave Harrison and any thoughts of any 'benefit of the doubt' behind.

"You don't know what you're saying. You _do_ need me," Harrison called after him, and before Barry could clear the corner, firm fingers wrapped around his left arm.

Instinct took over in place of panic—wild, furious instinct—and with a twist and inward pull to whirl Harrison around, Barry rushed back into the alcove and slammed him face-first into the wall. His heart beat wildly in his chest, but he wasn't afraid. _He wasn't afraid_.

"No, Harry. I don't."

Pushing forward once more to leave Harrison against the wall, Barry used the momentum to spring out of the alcove and move at a near-run along the edges of the ballroom. He couldn't let things end like this. He _wouldn't_.

There was no sign of Len at the door or by the coat check, but if he had stopped to retrieve his coat, he couldn't have gotten much of a head start. Leaving his own coat behind, Barry escaped into the night to find Len no matter how long it took him.

* * *

TBC...


	8. Chapter 8

They'd taken a cab to the gala. Len should find one now, get home, put this behind him quickly and figure out how to salvage what he'd ruined of his life. Rip had sighed at him in exasperation that morning when he came in with a _client_ , saying he was leaving.

"Not _for_ Mr. Piper here," he'd explained with a gesture at the young man beside him. "I have my reasons, but before you jump down my throat for quitting, consider my replacement."

Given Len's departure had been less heated than Mick's—and Mick hadn't _left_ , just changed his type of clientele—Rip was reasonable about making an exchange for a new escort instead of losing one.

Maybe he'd be willing to take Len back since it hadn't even been twenty-four hours. Len should call the office now, get ahead of this, whatever he needed to do to push past the brisk air as he escaped the towering building behind him and how Barry had been conning him from day one.

Len blacklists an unsavory client and in less than a week gets a request from a new one who monopolizes his time and doesn't want more than a snuggle? How had he been so _stupid_? He'd given up everything for Barry, and it was all just some game between him and Harrison—and _Merlin,_ with his camera and who knows how many videos they'd watched to get their kicks.

Scrounging for his cell phone, Len brought it up to dial Sara or maybe even Rip directly just as two teardrops landed on his coat sleeve. _No_. Barry didn't deserve this reaction, to have broken Len so thoroughly, just because he'd been sweet and Len had… _thought_ …

"Len, wait!"

 _I'm sure the universe'll give ya a break._

"Len!"

Yeah right. The universe was a _bitch_ , andfate meant being the joke everyone else laughed at.

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Len scrubbed furiously at his face to hide the evidence and kept on walking, no destination in mind, just _away_ from that voice and every lie that came with it.

"Len, please! Stop! It's not what you think!"

Even caught in the act, he thought he could swindle Len again? Not a chance.

" _Please_ ," Barry huffed as he caught up to him, not trying to touch— _smart move_ —but staying close. He didn't have his coat, just the tux, with the cool air making his breath come out as billowing puffs.

Len ignored him, paused only a moment at a crosswalk on red, then continued forward once the light changed. He didn't even know what street he was on anymore. The traffic, other people moving the opposite direction, _Barry_ —it was all a blur.

"Talk to me," Barry stayed in step with him. "Just talk to me, Len. Let me explain."

"This was all for Malcolm," Len held his voice steady and expression frigid by staring straight ahead. "You are _good_ , kid. Booked me the same week I dropped him. I should have known."

" _No_. I don't know Malcolm. I didn't even know Harry knew him. You have to believe me!"

Another crosswalk, already on green, which Len blew through and then took a sharp right to drive the point home that he wanted nothing to do with Barry's schemes.

But the kid was persistent.

"I hadn't seen that video until tonight," Barry went on, "because Harry was trying to turn me against you. Seeing something like that could never turn me against you, Len. He had me cornered. I didn't want to kiss him. It was just…bad timing!"

"Bad—" Len came up short at the sheer gall of Barry's excuses, but when he whirled to face him finally, he faltered at the look of sincerity on the boy's face already chapped red from the wind.

A _lie_. It had to be a lie. A convincing _act_.

"I know what I am," Len seethed at Barry. "What I've _been_. People think they can use me, and why not? In their minds, I let others use me every day. Being _used_ is how I make a living. But at least it's on my terms. To think, the first person who ever make me feel like a _whore_ I've never even been with."

Barry reared back, his expression so convincingly _hurt_ , that Len waited for the waterworks, for the con to ramp up again, yet it was somehow worse that Barry's eyes clouded, dampened, but he didn't cry. "You don't really believe I could think of you that way, do you?"

 _Fuck_. He was good. Too good. Too…believable.

Len tried to back up, but there was an alley behind him and he wasn't sure which direction to go. Approaching footsteps made Barry's head jerk to the left where a shadowed man headed their direction. There were hardly any people around now, Len realized, the streets very different than only a few blocks down where high society was enjoying a night out.

Snapping his attention back to Len, Barry still didn't shed any tears but looked resolute as he surged forward to grip Len's arms and pushed him those few important feet back into the alley. Len almost would have fought back, pushed _him_ in return, or at least wrenched his arms out of Barry's grasp, but he found his reflexes stolen by the feel of Barry's touch.

"You don't believe that," his eyes carried just as much potent emotion, "I know you don't. You're hurt, and all the evidence fell together the wrong way. But this is what I'm good at, Len—building a picture out of the data, the _real_ data. And you need the whole story to do that. Just like my models, telling me certain streets are more likely to see muggings. Like…this one, actually," he scanned the narrow alleyway he'd pushed them down with a sudden shred of trepidation. "Uhh…maybe we should—"

Len heard the click before he noticed the shadow behind Barry, but it was the way the boy's eyes widened that told him a _gun_ had just been pressed to Barry's back.

XXXXX

This wasn't happening. Barry had spent months, _years_ working out the data models to predict things like this and he'd still walked into crime alley—literally. He could feel the weight of the gun in the press of its barrel against his spine.

"Ain't you two dressed up nice?" the voice behind him said, playing at being friendly. "Get turned around leavin' the party, hoss? That's too bad. I'd be happy to give ya directions, but you're gonna have to give me somethin' first. Your _wallet_ ," he jabbed Barry harder with a shift in tone. "Yours too, Wall Street."

Len raised his hands slowly, eyes glowing brighter in the dark as his indecision, anger, and grief washed away in place of fear for Barry's sake while he moved to obey.

"Hurry up," the gun jabbed Barry again.

"I-I don't have my wallet," Barry's hands trembled as he raised them in kind. "I left it in my other jacket."

"You wanna play that game?" the voice asked more dangerously just as Len produced his wallet from his coat pocket and held it out.

"I swear!" Barry raised his hands higher. " _Please_. You don't want to be doing this anyway. Trust me."

"Oh yeah?" Warm breath struck Barry's ear with a humored puff. "Coz you're some big shot, that it?"

Len's eyes screamed at Barry to play ball, give the mugger something, anything—the _watch_ , he nodded at Barry's wrist with insistence—and Barry knew he should, wallet or no. But he hesitated to offer anything tonight when he was poised to lose so much more.

 _A gun isn't a knife, Barry,_ Laurel's voice broke into his thoughts. _Unless you can be 100% certain about a disarm, don't try it. Just give your attacker what they want._

"Because this alley is within a five-block radius of high recorded criminal activity," Barry said, staring forward at Len as his trembling came under control. "With a publicized event occurring only three blocks South, the ratio of police patrols is tripled from other locations around the city. If you fire that gun, there's at least one squad car close enough _right now_ to hear it. They'll catch you in minutes."

Laughter sounded from the man behind him. "You tryin' to scare me with that techy talk? Not gonna happen. Just play nice like your buddy here."

"I can't do that."

" _Barry_ ," Len pleaded with him.

"Listen to your friend, hoss. You don't wanna be a hero tonight," the mugger warned.

Len's eyes implored him with equal weight, but Barry couldn't be sure if that meant he believed him about everything that had gotten twisted between them or if Len was just a good man.

"Sometimes running is the brave thing," Len said softly, calling on a private moment that made Barry smile with a shred of hope.

"I know."

"Good boy," the mugger said, assuming Barry was ready to listen. But as he reached over Barry's shoulder to take Len's wallet, "Now—" Barry sprang into action.

Left hand coming up to catch the mugger's wrist, his right reached back in synch to grab the gun arm, twisting his body in the same motion to point the gun at the ground in case it went off. It didn't.

Pivoting the rest of the way around, Barry jammed his shoulder into the mugger's chest, staggering him back, and peeled the gun from his fingers. The man had the mouth of the alley behind him as well as the street, while Barry held the gun and pointed it square at his chest. He gestured for the mugger to move against the wall, and just like that, Barry had control, smooth and seamless.

He owed Laurel a drink.

"Sometimes running _is_ the brave thing," Barry repeated, "but tonight was not the night to push me."

"Whoa, man," the mugger's hands shot up. He had on dark clothes, a sweatshirt with the hood up, but no bloodshot eyes like some junkie. "Hang on—"

"I don't want to run anymore," Barry spoke over him, but even as he kept the gun on the attacker, he shifted his focus to Len. "And I'm not letting you run, either. I mean…if you still want to go after you hear what I have to say, I won't stop you, but please, Len, let me explain."

Len's expression was as startled as the mugger's. His arms dropped, wallet still clutched in his hand. "Barry, maybe you should put the gun—"

"You saw Harry kiss me while a video of you played on my phone," Barry pushed on. "I know it looked bad, but that's _perception_ not the truth. Think of the data, Len, the evidence. What about Curtis and Paul? Laurel and Tommy? My work. My _home_. Your signature is on every part of the life I've built here. Hours spent just the two of us for months. What probability, what _outcome_ makes more sense? That this was all some elaborate plot to hurt you, or just bad timing when once again Harry was trying to hurt _me_?"

The concern in Len over Barry brandishing the gun melted in place of realization. "And I left you with him…" he said as that sunk in. "Barry, I'm so sorry."

"I know," Barry smiled in relief. "I just need _you_ to know that I had nothing to do with that video. Harry sent it to my email and made me watch it. Your client must have given it to him. He wants to use it as blackmail or something, and Harry thought showing it to me would change my opinion of you. It _didn't_. I'm sorry I watched it. I shouldn't have. But seeing you like that didn't make me think you were…low or less or anything but how I've always seen you.

"I don't care that you're an escort, Len, but I also can't deny that seeing you with someone else…made me jealous," Barry admitted, bolstered by the small smile taking shape on Len's face too. " _I_ want to touch you like that. But only if you want me to, not because it's business. "I…" he could hardly believe he was about to say these next words, but he felt them and needed Len to know, "I love you. And I'm sure you've heard that a million times—"

"I gave up all my clients," Len cut him off.

"What?" Barry blinked at him.

"I quit this morning. The clients I had scheduled this week? I didn't sleep with either of them. I didn't want anyone else to touch me, Barry, when all I want is you."

There was a moment where the whole rest of the world fell away and it was just them, inches apart with everything on the table, and all Barry could think about was kissing Len.

"Uhh, while all this is fascinatin'," the mugger spoiled the moment by reminding them of his presence, "I gotta say—"

"You don't get to talk right now," Barry snapped back at him, re-centering the gun's aim as he willed his arm not to shake from the strain of keeping the heavy weapon upright.

"I just wanna _say_ ," the man held his hands higher, "it's not loaded."

"It… What?" Barry pulled the gun toward him to stare at it, then quickly pointed it back at the mugger before he could try anything. "If you think I'm that stupid—"

"I swear, man, just check!"

Barry shared an uncertain look with Len, but when _he_ had the gun and there were two of them against one man, the worst that could happen if the mugger was lying was that he'd bolt. So, Barry pulled the gun in again and checked the clip.

 _Empty_.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Barry pushed the empty weapon into the mugger's arms and smacked his shoulder for good measure. "Why would you do something like that?"

"You'd prefer it _was_ loaded?" the man countered, shoving the gun into the back of his jeans. "I wasn't gonna kill somebody for loose change, alright. I'm just in a tight spot. $200 short on rent and my new job doesn't start for a week. My daughter and I are gonna be out on the street, so I got desperate. You wanna scream for the cops now, be my guest." He dropped back to lean against the wall, fully deflated from the confrontational figure he'd been trying to portray.

Barry considered what the man had said as the rapid fire of his pounding pulse diminished. "You only need $200?"

" _Barry_ ," Len admonished.

"What?" he glanced aside with an innocent shrug.

Len's expressions had run the gamut tonight, but his look of exasperation was one of Barry's favorites because it always seemed so fond of him too. "You are not giving our mugger cash out of the goodness of your heart."

"I know," Barry said, more forgiving now that the danger had passed and Len believed him. "I really don't have my wallet. But on Monday the mayor's office is going to announce a gun buyback program. I should have a card…" He started to pat down his slacks, then his suit coat, and finally found the small stack of business cards he'd brought with him. Selecting one, he handed it to the mugger. "Here. Go to the nearest precinct. Show them my card. Say I gave permission for an early exchange. If anyone questions it, they can call me or the mayor directly."

The man accepted the card with a healthy dose of skepticism. "The _mayor_? Shit, hoss, you really are some big shot, huh?"

"Not really," Barry shrugged again, "I just have good friends. Though make sure you show the card and explain everything before you pull the gun."

"I ain't stupid," he snorted. "Though all this might point to the contrary. They really gonna give me cash for my piece?"

"I'll make sure of it. The program is $200 per firearm. Maybe the universe is looking out for you," Barry smiled and couldn't help the way his eyes strayed to Len again.

"That'd be a first. But I ain't complainin'." He tucked the business card away and finally pulled the hood from his head. He had a wicked scar down his right eye, but his hair was neatly buzzed and his facial hair trimmed like he was usually more kempt. Not a criminal, just a desperate man taking advantage of so many other criminals moving through these streets.

Hopefully, the various pieces to Barry's program would help do away with that and make things better for everyone in Star City.

The man gestured between Len and Barry. "Whatever mess you two tryin' to work through, good luck. He obviously ain't someone you wanna let get away," he added to Len with a nod at Barry.

Len was less accepting of the man who'd tried to rob them, but he nodded in reply as he finally put his wallet away. "I'm starting to remember that."

* * *

Jumping to conclusions wasn't Len's way. He always took his time, checked every angle, _planned_ , but seeing Barry with Harrison like that, seeing the video on his phone, had blindsided him and he hadn't been able to recognize the truth until Barry pointed it out.

Barry was no con artist. Goodness was sewn into the lining of his skin, even enough for him to offer pity to someone who'd attacked them. Most people weren't like that, but most people weren't _Barry Allen_.

A dangerous alley where they'd already been mugged once was not the appropriate place to share an embrace or a kiss. They needed to get back to the gala. Barry would be missed, and someone needed to do something about Harrison and his ulterior motives.

Their would-be mugger walked with them the few blocks to the venue—real criminals were less likely to confront _three_ men out in the open. When he parted ways with them, he gave his name, "Rene Ramirez," and shook Barry's hand.

Only Barry.

If he hadn't been such an integral part of the evening's schedule, Len would have whisked him away right then so they could talk more, specifically about the three impossible words Barry had said.

 _I love you._

He loved Len. And he'd said it freely. Barry was wrong; Len did not hear that all the time. Normal clients didn't think of him that way. In fact, Len could count on one hand how many people had ever said those words to him, and one of them was his sister.

After giving his jacket back to the confused coat check attendant, they reentered the ballroom and scanned the area for any sign of Merlin—who appeared to have left—and Harrison, who headed toward them the moment he saw Barry.

Moving swiftly, they in turn sought out Mayor Queen. Felicity stood at his side with Ray and his wife, Anna. The two CEOs were preparing to make the announcement about their joint venture, which would likely get quoted in the papers tomorrow, and were thrilled to see Barry since they'd worried having seen him rush out.

Barry wasted no time explaining why he'd run, all without implicating Len in anything illegal. Harrison had ambushed him, admitted to starting the rumors about Barry's character, and came here just to pull Barry back into his clutches. While the collaboration with STAR Labs should move forward, Harrison's involvement had to end.

Len expected the fierce expressions Felicity and Ray soon wore—he'd already seen how much the pair doted on Barry—but the mayor's severe face was far more intimidating.

"I'll take care of it, Barry. You just enjoy your evening."

While Felicity, Ray, and Barry ascended a small platform in the center of the room to gather everyone's attention, Oliver's bodyguards—which included one particularly large, well-muscled man—held Harrison back, ensuring he didn't get anywhere near Barry, and escorted him from the ballroom without making a scene. For a moment, Len wondered about those cement shoes he and Barry had joked about, but he doubted the mayor would go that far.

Watching Barry up there getting the attention and credit he deserved while Harrison was nowhere in sight all because Barry had stood up to him, stood up to _Len_ , stood up to a mugger and pulled off a move to swipe the gun that had impressed Len so much he was still mentally replaying it, all made Len so proud. This phenomenal boy _loved_ him. And Len knew as he looked on from the crowd that he loved Barry just as fiercely.

"He sure is pretty, I'll give ya that."

Len startled at the sound of his friend's voice. _Mick_ had snuck up on him to speak softly beside his ear, wearing his own tux to fit in with the crowd. "How—"

" _Doctor_ , remember?" he winked, and when he leaned away, Len noticed the young woman on his arm. Mick was a couple years older than Len, but she was almost as young as Barry, with a willowy figure and slighter stature, especially while standing next to a man as large and burly as Mick. Her form-fitting, low-cut gown in shades of blue and silver looked like a winter night sky.

"You're Len," she said with a warm smile, extending a hand toward him.

He shook it gladly. "And you're _Frost_."

She laughed. "He's not allowed to call me that anymore."

"How 'bout Snowflake, doll?" Mick pressed a kiss to the side of her head, and the way she leaned into it told Len all he needed to know. "Your boy is somethin' else, huh?"

Len turned back to the platform where the announcement still filled the room, with Barry currently at the center. But it was ending and soon he'd return to Len. "That he is, Mick. Now if you'll excuse me," he turned back to take Caitlin's hand once more and kissed it in goodbye, "we'll have to properly get to know each other another time."

"Double date?" Mick winked at him.

Laurel and Tommy, as well as Curtis and Paul, weren't far away across the ballroom. "Maybe even a dinner party," Len said. "But right now, I need to spirit my companion away." The room erupted in applause just as Len headed to the platform to intercept Barry's departure.

"Have fun, buddy!" Mick called after him.

Len didn't know about _that_. He hoped they would, that certain things he'd been fantasizing about might come to fruition, but he'd never expect anything from Barry. For once, he didn't mind taking things slow.

With Harrison and Merlin long gone, now that Barry's responsibilities for the night were over, he welcomed Len's suggestion to slip away. He explained in passing to Laurel and Curtis that he'd give them both a longer explanation for the night's insanity on Monday, and they caught a cab outside to leave the gala in their rearview mirror.

Len shouldn't have been so nervous the closer they got to returning to Barry's home. There were unspoken promises in every glance they stole of each other, but they couldn't have the several intimate conversations they were due in the back of a cab. Coiling their fingers together was as far as they took things.

Once they were inside the building, however, heading up the elevator, Len had to ask, "Is that interview going to go slightly differently on Monday?"

"It is. But I'll discuss it with Ray and Felicity first. STAR Labs deserves a head's up too, or they might pull out of the deal themselves. They'll have to do damage control once it's made public that their CTO dated an employee for four years and broke his arm when he tried to leave him." Barry said it all with conviction, but the broken boy he'd been for so long hadn't healed all his fissures yet.

"It's the right thing, Barry," Len said.

"I know. I'm almost glad all this happened tonight. For the first time," he let himself feel the pride of everything he'd accomplished with a bright smile as the elevator opened and they stepped out, "I don't feel afraid of anything."

A flash of paranoia stirred in Len, and he wondered if they'd find Harrison waiting outside Barry's door, but fate had shifted back in their favor. _Freedom_ was a good look on Barry.

"Maybe pull back on the heroics when guns are involved next time," Len chided.

"Don't worry," Barry chuckled. "If I hadn't been 100% certain I could do it without anyone getting hurt, I wouldn't have."

"Glad those training sessions paid off. Maybe I could use some. Future date with a pair of sisters?"

A more boisterous laugh left Barry. "Deal."

The quiet, dark apartment enveloped them like a warm embrace when they stepped inside. Barry turned on the main light but kept the rest off, leaving the mood soft and dim. Removing their coats, hovering near the door yet, the anticipation of what to do next was worse than any time before.

"Len?" Barry whispered.

"Yes, Barry?"

"Since I'm not afraid anymore, I don't want to spend a single moment _not_ kissing you."

Barry's hands came up to grasp either side of Len's face, and as he leaned forward and their lips touched, Len brought his own hands up to cover Barry's just as their mouths parted to rekindle what they'd started the other night.

The warmth of Barry made Len quiver—the slow slide of their tongues, that feeling of completion that had been interrupted so unfairly the first time. Len's hands dropped to Barry's wrists but held on as they kissed, and _kissed_ , and eventually had to gasp for air, allowing their foreheads to fall together.

"Would you like to get out of these tuxes, Barry?"

"Y-Yes."

The exchange was so reminiscent of their first night, Len didn't want to presume that any more than cuddling was on the table, but he needed to know what was allowed. He stroked Barry's cheek and pressed another firm and then deeper and _deeper_ kiss to that lovely mouth, before he spoke again.

"Barry, if you're not sure, not ready, we don't have to do anything more than this tonight. If this and our usual routine is all you want, that's enough for me."

"And if it's _not_ all I want?"

Len's chest fluttered from the certainty in Barry's gaze. "Then more sounds wonderful."

Replying with an impish grin and bite of his lower lip, Barry backed toward the bedroom, leading Len by the hand.

The fluttering turned into a full-on flip of Len's stomach. He was nervous. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been _nervous_. Once again, Barry thrilled him simply by being _Barry_ , the culmination of everything Len had been missing in life but hadn't understood or been able to accept until he found it.

"I want you to know everything I plan to do to you before I do it," Barry said as they crossed the threshold, "so you can tell me if it's what you want too."

Usually, _Len_ was the one saying those words. "And what do _you_ want, Barry?"

Hands up by his bowtie to undo it, Barry paused, and then that impish smile returned and he tugged the bow loose. "I want to undress you with my own hands. _Everything_ this time. And then…" ah, _there_ was Len's Scarlet, "…th-then…I want to get my mouth on you. Would you like that?"

" _Yes_ ," Len said succinctly.

Barry pulled off his tie and began undoing the buttons to his shirt with his smile ever widening. Len would have followed suit, but he could hardly refuse the request for Barry to do the undressing for him, which meant Len had the luxury of watching Barry disrobe first. Once the kid recognized the inherent role reversal, he grasped Len's hands to lead him to the bed and sat him on the edge.

His hands didn't quake as he finished opening his shirt and dropped that and his jacket from his shoulders. Len had always delighted in Barry's lean lines and smoothly defined muscle tone, but it was different now, _better_ , knowing he'd get to touch everything his eyes took in.

Barry dropped the tuxedo pants down his long legs, so beautiful in just his underwear, flush with color and all for Len. The first thing Barry reached for when he stepped in between Len's parted legs was the glasses perched on his nose.

"I want mine on a bit longer, but is this okay?" Barry asked as he pulled them from Len's face. "I love you in them, I just don't want to wreck them."

"I can see well enough without them."

"Good. But I don't want to miss a single detail until I have you bare. I wish the first time I saw you hadn't been on that video," he added with a grimace.

"Doesn't matter now," Len said, hands settling on Barry's hips. "Here, our enemies can't touch us. But _you_ can touch whatever you like."

A giggle replaced the grimace like a slate wiped clean. "First, I want to kiss you again. Can I?"

"Always."

Taking hold of Len's face like before, Barry crawled into his lap and teased his tongue along Len's lips before he slid inside. Len wasn't used to this dynamic, having someone so clearly want to make it all about _him_.

"Oh shit," Barry pulled back with a start.

"What is it?"

"I don't have any condoms."

Well that answered the question of how Barry wanted the evening to proceed. "I do. In my wallet. Not an expectation, just habit. Which I'll try to stop saying so much," Len grimaced himself this time.

"It's okay," Barry said. "It is _all_ okay."

Finding the end of Len's bowtie, Barry carefully untied it, deft fingers never once fumbling as they moved on to undo his shirt buttons next. Len shouldn't have assumed Barry would be timid in the bedroom. He liked that the confidence Barry usually lacked, he found here, or maybe part of that was because of tonight, and because his partner was Len.

The eager fan of Barry's hands over Len's chest and down his stomach promised of everything to come, his tux and all its pieces soon dropping to the floor and being kicked away. Then Barry was dropping to his knees between Len's thighs and tugging down the waistband of his shorts. He barely got them down Len's calves before his eyes fluttered upward and he leaned forward to _taste_ Len like he'd said he wanted.

Len's hands went straight for Barry's hair, the well-gelled locks mussing with the barest carding of his fingers and light tugs. Barry hummed at the attention, and the vibrations from the act went straight to the base of Len's spine. Clients almost never did this for him, but he knew now that he never wanted another mouth on him ever again or different hands gripping his thighs for leverage.

Continuing to pet and praise Barry, Len let himself relax into the freedom of not needing to perform, just being honest, because with Barry, he could simply be himself.

As one of Barry's hands slid up Len's stomach, the other assisting the languid attentions of his mouth, Len dropped back on the bed. Barry pushed forward at the invitation to spread Len's legs wider, getting even _closer_ , and Len could hardly stand how near to the edge he was already.

"Barry…which of us…is wearing this?" he plucked the waiting condom from the bed.

" _You_ ," Barry rumbled.

"Then you better hold off…or I won't last much longer. Tell me," he looked at Barry with every ounce of adoration he felt. "How do you want this to go?"

Crawling up Len's body with renewed confidence, Barry licked his lips and slid his clothed hips against Len's naked skin. "Like our first night, but the way you would have done things if I hadn't stopped you. _Show_ me," he bucked forward as he laid atop Len, "what you wanted to do to me then."

Lips met with a clash of mutual desire, every stroke of their tongues and slide of their bodies spurring them on.

"On the bed," Len gasped, certain he had no ability to move unless Barry released him. Then Barry did, pulling up and dropping onto his feet to stand while he slipped his fingers into the waistband of his underwear.

"No," Len sat up, "those stay on. We have this." He held up the condom. "What about other supplies?"

"Bottom drawer," Barry nodded at the nightstand.

Len went for it, while Barry clambered onto the bed to throw the sheets aside. Once they were ready, Len set the items they'd need later within easy reach, and settled behind Barry like they'd been so many weeks, _months_ now, in the past.

* * *

Len was hard. Of course he was; Barry was too. But tonight he could feel skin against the back of his thighs. He'd finally had Len on his tongue, drawing out noises and fawning words, making Len writhe and gasp and _god_ —it was worth all the heartache to get here.

Pushing against the body behind him, Barry felt Len's right hand, coiled around his waist, tease at his waistband and dip beneath the elastic. The first brush of Len's fingers made him whimper. He didn't realize how starved he was for touch, for _Len's_ touch, until he had it. The noises that left him rivaled Len's for their plaintiveness. Barry had always been noisy, and for Len he loved that because he wanted him to know how good this felt.

"This is what I would have done, Barry," Len whispered. "Teased you until you begged for more. Tell me what you want next. Tell me how to _touch_ you."

A whine keened past Barry's lips. It had been so _long_ , and Harrison was never like this, always cared for his own pleasure more than Barry's, while Len fell into synch with everything Barry asked for.

" _Slower_ ," he said, gripping Len's hand to guide him. "I wanna feel you deeper before we're done."

Barry didn't ask for these things. He didn't give commands, he didn't stay in step with his lover, equal from one moment to the next. In the past, he'd always given in to the whims of someone else. This, finally, was the exchange he'd longed for, where every stroke of Len's hand mirrored the waves of Barry's body rocking back against him.

" _Please_ …" Barry whimpered, and Len knew without elaboration what he meant.

Only then did Barry's underwear get torn away, and the slick slide of a new connection brought out louder noises from him, eager to be filled with more. Minutes of careful attention passed to make sure he was ready, before the connection deepened further than they'd ever shared, and Barry inhaled sharply.

"Okay?" Len asked.

" _Y-Yes_ …oh, Len…don't stop."

It felt brand new for more reasons than being new for them, because Barry had never known this feeling with anyone else. Heightened, shaking, whining every syllable that left him. With the motion of their bodies, rhythmic and perfectly paced, Barry gripped Len's wrist to connect them one step further while Len's fingers moved between his thighs to lead them toward an end together.

When they got there, overlapping and breathless, all Barry wanted to do was cling, to Len's wrist, to his hip behind him, even arching his neck almost painfully around to steal a kiss—mostly just a wet lap of tongues, but it was everything Barry needed. Disentangling was even better, because it meant he could turn and kiss Len properly, with the same passion as if they could start all over again.

"Insatiable, are you?" Len chuckled, low and sultry against his lips.

"For you? _Always_."

It may have been the rush of endorphins, the high of a first time, but Barry didn't care. He wanted to revel in this feeling and keep Len close the rest of the night.

Once they were cleaned up enough to lie comfortably with the covers pulled around them, snuggling the way they used to felt miles different from before. Barry couldn't stop smiling, his cheeks hurt from the strain, because Len's fingers were laced with his, legs tangled, nothing between them but _skin_. There was too much to smile about, specially when Len kept pressing kisses to his temple, cheek, and lips.

"There are several serious things we should talk about," Len eventually said, when it seemed like they might lounge and kiss and exist together like that forever.

"Like what?"

"Like…what if, after tonight…I really was your publicist?"

Barry stared at the side of Len's face. He'd forgotten about Len's normal job for a moment and how complicated everything still was. "Would you like that? Could we do that?"

"The way I see it," Len glanced at him with slight gauging in his eyes like he worried Barry might turn him down, "we simply need to work out a reasonable salary, a fair job description of tasks for me to complete, and we're already halfway there. _If_ you like the idea. Imagine there's an event you don't want to deal with," he added with a teasing grin. "You can make an appearance as needed but then your _publicist_ might have to whisk you away for another engagement—which may or may not lead to inappropriate behavior in a limousine."

Barry giggled, but he could tell that Len was edgy offering this. "So I'd still be paying you to stick around?"

"No. You'd be paying me to do something I enjoy. I'd stick around after hours because I want to. Unless that's too weird for you—"

" _No_ ," Barry answered just as zealously. "I…I like it. But are you sure? I still can't believe you quit for me."

"It's what I want," a humble smile graced Len's features. "If you hadn't noticed, I rather enjoy being your publicist, and I'm _fantastic_ at it."

"You are," Barry said with another snicker.

"Plus, there is a bonus to the arrangement."

"You mean this?" Barry tightened his hold on Len's fingers.

" _This_ was amazing, Barry. But I mean something else." Kissing Barry's fingertips, the blue of Len's eyes glittered as he said, "I love you."

"You… _really_?" Barry's heart nearly stuttered to a stop, because _he'd_ said it earlier, but he hadn't expected to hear it said back.

Len nodded but any words he might speak were stolen by Barry invading his mouth with wonderful fervor. He would never tire of Len's lips now that he'd known them.

"Do you know the great thing about data models?" Barry said, quiet and intimate between them. "They make it look like you knew what you were doing all along, even if you just figured things out a few minutes ago. They put everything into perspective, so that even a jumbled past can still paint a clear picture of the future. Sometimes that's all anyone needs."

Len kissed Barry's lips softly in response. "I couldn't have said it better."

Maybe some night soon, all this would be enough for Barry to fall asleep right then in Len's arms, more content than he'd felt in ages, but it wasn't that late, and Barry had other plans.

"So, umm…" he squeezed Len's hand again and stared at the face scant millimeters from his own. "Do you wanna take a shower, make popcorn, and find some cheesy sci-fi movie to watch before bed?"

A delighted laugh left Len. "I _love_ you, Barry," he said again.

That laugh, those words—Barry would never tire of hearing any of it. "I love you too."

* * *

TBC...


	9. Chapter 9

**Wow, guys, I mean...WOW. Thank you for all your kind comments throughout.**

 **Enjoy the happy end!**

* * *

Len and Barry had experienced lazy days before, bleeding from one night into another, but Sunday was decidedly different than any day before it. Len didn't have a change of clothes with him, so after they'd showered the night before, he'd stolen one of Barry's T-shirts and sleep pants for their movie. He would have gladly stayed in those clothes indefinitely given the way Barry looked at him with such _affection_ when his fingers traced down the screen-print of the DeLorean from _Back to the Future_.

They couldn't hide from the world forever though, and eventually, the next day, Len had to put his own clothes back on, sans suit coat and bowtie, and head home. Barry accompanied him.

"Are you sure I'm not imposing?"

A few months ago, he might have been. Len didn't let people into his home. He didn't let people into his _life_. Barry changed everything, and Len wanted to keep the momentum going so he never second-guessed the kid again. "You're not imposing. Besides, my apartment is closer to Smoak Industries for Monday, and I'm hoping you won't want to leave for a while."

The smile on Barry's face could have lit up a dark room as easily as it warmed Len's cold heart.

Without argument, they retired to Len's apartment after a day of lounging and long conversations with an overnight bag packed for Barry. The evening was filled with new ways to explore each other, and before long, it was the next morning and time for life to continue.

"You can come with me," Barry said, scowling at the alarm clock they'd already hit SNOOZE on twice. "I have to make my session with Laurel this morning. I want to tell her about Harry. Then I have to tell Curtis. Calling Iris, Eddie, and Cisco can't wait forever either, and I should touch base with Felicity and Ray before the interview. It's all so…much.

"I mean, I don't need you hanging at my side all day," he glanced away with such humble embarrassment, "but you could come to my training session, then walk me in to work, see the building a little. I know I'll be okay after that. It's weird though, thinking about telling some stranger what happened to me."

Len held Barry's hand close to his chest, still awed by being able to lie with Barry like this after so long having to hold back. " _I_ was a stranger in the beginning. So was Laurel. And Curtis. I know this is different, but you don't have to sensationalize what happened. Say what needs to be said, what you're comfortable saying, and leave things there. It'll be enough."

"I feel…guilty," Barry said, keeping his eyes on their clasped hands. "I don't think Harrison means to be a bad person."

"Barry…"

"I _know_. I'm doing it again, but…I cared for him once. I'm not being petty, right?" Hazel eyes finally flicked upward to meet Len's gaze.

"No," he said plainly. "You're being honest. You're protecting yourself. It's been less than a year, Barry. You could still file charges for assault if you wanted."

"Oh, I don't know," Barry shook his head. "He'd probably turn around and try to charge me for last night."

"You defended yourself from a previous attacker."

"My word against his."

"Which is entirely different from you having medical records of a broken arm from the real assault," Len insisted. "Even if it doesn't stick, the truth will be out there to better protect you and any future partners roped into his clutches." He didn't mean to push; he just tended to get heated when it came to his loved ones.

All of Barry's ghosts seemed to cloud his vision at the same time, encroaching on their content little corner of the universe where it would have been nice to hide for a while longer. "You're right," he said. "I know you're right. It just feels so much more real again."

"I know," Len drew Barry's finger to his lips—one of his many favorite places to kiss the boy, "but you are so strong. You didn't only prove that at the gala but for weeks, _months_ moving on without him. You are remarkable, Barry. Never let him make you doubt that. As for the rest, STAR Labs will see reason with the venture. If Harrison ends up without a job, excuse me for not shedding any tears." It might have been a cold thing to say, but it made Barry laugh and break from his somber disposition.

"What about you?" he asked, snuggling closer to Len instead of untangling like they should. "Merlin and that video?"

Like a fresh trill from the alarm clock, Len's phone on the nightstand began to ring. _Sara's_ name blinked at them. "Let's find out, shall we?" Stretching behind him to snag it, Len was careful not to disrupt Barry's welcoming presence at his side. "You're up early," he answered the call.

"Please, as if you've even slept the past two days despite not leaving the bedroom," Sara teased.

"We've slept," Len defended. " _And_ left the bedroom."

"Oh really? Where are you now?"

Barry stifled a giggle into Len's shoulder.

"It's seven-thirty in the morning. Any news on Merlin?" Len asked.

Sara snorted at the change in subject. "You won't have to worry about him."

"What happened?" Barry questioned, perking up at Len's side.

Another snort. "Wells and Merlin didn't count on you two being a unified front," Sara said louder for Barry's benefit. "Now that we have that footage, who could be blackmailed changes. Did you really think he could blow this up as proof of prostitution without making himself culpable? If he so much as breathes wrong in this city, especially in the direction of any escort services, he's the one who'll be prosecuted. Not that Rip would ever throw you under the bus by revealing that footage," she dropped some of her teasing edge, "but he certainly made it sound convincing to Merlin."

One of the many reasons Len had been so loyal to _Nick of Time_ was that Rip could be one scary bastard when he needed to be. "Tell him I owe him a fruit basket."

"It'll really be okay?" Barry leaned further over Len to speak into the phone.

"Merlin has no ammunition, Barry, and his bed is going to stay cold for a very long time. You just worry about you and Leonard. And invite me to that next dinner party! I'll bring the wine."

Barry's renewed giggle soothed Len better than any news about Merlin's downfall ever could. They'd be okay, but first they had to finish taking down Harrison.

After hanging up the call with Sara, it was like a day in the life of Barry Allen—heading into the city to attend his lesson with Laurel, then his routine on the way to work getting his favorite morning coffee that the breakroom coffee later in the day just couldn't compare to, and finally entering Smoak Industries where everyone, security included, showed Barry such deference that Len felt humbled by how so much of the city understood Barry's worth as well as he did.

Barry's support structure was growing in Star City, with Laurel and Curtis especially, who had both offered bodily harm to Harrison after hearing the full series of events from Saturday night.

"I'm aware my combat reflexes are next to nil, Barry, but I can still _look_ intimidating," Curtis said. He was a sufficiently tall and broad man, but Len would hardly call him intimidating.

They'd been stopped by Curtis on their way to see Felicity regarding the added details of the upcoming interview Barry had with the city's leading news channel, which would likely get national attention. Standing at a cross-section to various areas of the main executive floor, Len was as impressed by the building as he was its people.

"Barry can handle himself quite impressively, as it turns out," he said.

Curtis smiled with a ready response only to flounder, eyes widening as they focused over Len and Barry's shoulders. "That's, uhh, good, coz apparently security sucks today."

Len whipped around, already anticipating who they'd find before his eyes landed on _Harrison_ headed toward them. The man's severe expression had Len prepared to step in front of Barry to protect him, but Barry was faster and held Len behind him first.

"Barry," Len spoke up, "if you don't want—"

"I got this. Curtis, alert Felicity and security for me, will you?"

Remaining wide-eyed having been ordered to leave Barry and Len alone with a potential threat, Curtis reluctantly complied, "If you're sure, Barry," and backed up before turning tail the opposite direction.

The loathing Len felt for Harrison didn't need any encouragement. When Barry had first told him the story of what happened, Len pictured his father. He saw the similarities in the men clearly in person, not in appearance, but in the foundation of their sneers, like they believed they had a right to whatever they wanted no matter who got hurt along the way. That Barry could stand tall to face Harrison now was a sign of how far he'd come.

"You're pushing me out?" Harrison said as he neared them, stopping closer to Barry than Len would have liked. "All this put at risk, and for what? _Him_?"

Barry's hand touched Len's arm as he kept him guarded behind him. "If STAR Labs is willing to shift ownership of the partnership elsewhere, that doesn't change that we're still moving forward with it. When you first came here, you said you understood if that's what I wanted. But you didn't mean that, did you? You only said it to trick me, and when I didn't act the way you wanted, you shed your skin like the _snake_ you are."

Instead of anger, the lie of sympathetic pleading surged up strong in Harrison. He was _good_ ; Len saw now who the real con artist was. "You don't see the danger in fraternizing with someone like _him_ ," he spat at Len, "given your position, your career?"

"After the things you've done to me, you dare—"

"I _love_ you, Barry," he stepped closer, causing Barry to back up, drawing Len back with him. "I always have. I only want what's best for you."

"No you don't," Barry shook his head, "you want what's best for you. And that includes having me bow to everything _you_ want. That's not a partnership, Harry, and it's time STAR Labs and everyone else learned what you are."

Harrison's carefully constructed mask flickered. "You're threatening me?"

"You threatened _me_. You threatened _Len_. I'm just telling the truth."

"Are you now?" Harrison huffed a bitter laugh, gesturing widely at the office. "All these people know what your _publicist_ really is? Have you been truthful about that?"

Heads had started popping up from surrounding cubicles and out of office doorways, creating the exact scene Harrison had been hoping for, assuming he could grab the upper hand if only he cornered Barry again.

"You started those rumors to discredit me," Barry fought back, "to force me into thinking I needed you, and you expect me to thank you for that? To run back into your arms? With you, I could have been anyone. You never cared about me. You wanted someone who was easy to control. But you were never enough for me, Harry, and you never will be."

"So you have to _pay for it_ instead?" he barked.

That, of course, was the moment Curtis returned with Felicity. Len heard them coming and glanced behind him, only to see that it was more than only two pairs of feet, because Ray and Mayor Queen were with her.

"I do pay him," Barry said, not knowing how much their audience had grown. " _And_ I'm sleeping with him. But I do not pay him to sleep with me. That was never what this was about."

Harrison scoffed, "You expect me to believe that? He's a _prostitute_."

That word carried enough weight for Len to feel the scrutiny of the many eyes on him, but Barry didn't falter. "You can think whatever you want," he reached back blindly to take Len's hand. "I'm happy. It's a shame you only know how to make a partner miserable. You were never worth the effort I put into you, and it feels good to finally get that."

"Barry," Oliver spoke as the initial voice of authority. Barry and Len both turned, stepping to the side to accept the new additions to their circle, and Oliver spared an icy glance at Harrison. "I see you have things handled. The three of us feared you might need additional support today. Pity we were right."

"Mr. Wells," Felicity addressed Harrison directly, "security is on its way to escort you out of the building. I trust you won't resist."

Even Ray, who Len had come to think of as an overlarge puppy, looked menacing, with Curtis holding back like he was witnessing a slow motion car crash and didn't know where to hold his attention.

Recognizing that he was vastly outnumbered and out of things to say, Harrison scrambled for something, anything to reclaim the conversation. "Barry, you're making a mistake. You—"

"No," Barry shot him down, standing tall in front of the man he'd worked so hard to put behind him. "My mistake was _you_. Now I'm moving on."

Len saw the rage that sprang to life on Harrison's face with the finality of Barry's words like the fuse of an explosive ignited, but in that moment, Barry turned to depart through his circle of friends and didn't notice. The expression was too familiar, painful in its clarity to Len's senses, so when Harrison lurched forward, unthinking, wild and _angry_ , Len intercepted.

He gripped Harrison's wrist before the man could grab Barry's and used his hold as leverage to power a fierce punch across Harrison's jaw. When he let go, Harrison stumbled, dazed. Len's hand _stung_ , but it was worth it to see that bastard topple to the floor.

"Better watch that temper, _Harry_. It's about to get you into more trouble than you know."

A spattering of applause sounded from the spectators, even Curtis let out a laugh that he stifled with his hand, but while Felicity, Ray, and Oliver stood stoic, Barry's reaction was all Len cared about, and he looked so moved that even if he didn't need rescuing, Len was still there to watch his back.

Len reached for Barry's hand that had been rudely ripped away from him when he stepped in to stop Harrison lunge.

"H-He assaulted me!" Harrison sputtered.

"Not the way it looked from our angle, Mr. Wells," Felicity said, crossing her arms and nodding curtly at security as they finally arrived from down the hall.

They swarmed Harrison quickly and lifted him from the ground.

"Wait!" Harrison tried, but no one was listening to him anymore.

In short order, he was carted away, leaving Barry holding gratefully to Len's hand, while he looked at the three powerful figures who'd become his friends, at Curtis who'd become a _dear_ friend, and at their audience who was starting to return to work now that the show was over.

As strong as Barry had been while facing Harrison, he was still reserved deep down, and he hunched in on himself now that the commotion was over. "Look, about what Harrison said—"

"Your personal life is your own, Barry," Ray interrupted, smiling congenially like usual. "If you found love with your… _publicist_ , well that's just good fortune since you spend so much time together."

"You're welcome to stay through the interview, Mr. Wynters," Felicity added, "and as long as you'd like after that."

It was obvious to Len, in the case of Mayor Queen in particular, that they knew there was some truth to what Harrison had been accusing them of, but they respected and cared for Barry too much to care.

"I think I will stay," Len said, looking aside at Barry close against him, "if you'd like that?"

" _Yes_ ," Barry said with the same passion he always used when he got what he wanted. "Thank you. Thank _you_ ," he said again to the people who had come together for his sake, Curtis included. "And if it's alright with everyone, since I have all of you here…I'd like to tell you what I plan to say in that interview."

* * *

Everything had a pattern. The trick to understanding the data was in the models. The algorithms. The points along a timeline that indicated the probability of what should come next.

Barry's whole world revolved around patterns, but some things couldn't be predicted. Whenever that happened, he thought back to something his mother once told him.

"Meet every surprise in life like you had a plan all along."

Barry still didn't have a plan. But he was starting to be okay with that. Some things he could predict, he'd built his entire career off that, but the rest would work itself out with time and effort and the belief that he was finally fighting for what he wanted.

Next, he had to get through introducing Len to his family.

Joe, Iris, and Eddie were coming for a visit, with Cisco having tagged along. Len's sister Lisa was coming too. They'd had several dinner parties over the past few weeks since the interview made Barry's personal life public—with Curtis and Paul, Laurel and Tommy, Sara, Len's friend Mick and his now girlfriend Caitlin, all of whom Barry adored. Even Felicity and Oliver, and Ray and Anna attended a few. But this would be the first time their loved ones from Central City would be coming together.

STAR Labs had fired Harrison in the aftermath of the scandal, but they appreciated the heads-up Felicity gave them before the story went live and happily continued the partnership with a new representative sent to work in Central City. Martin Stein was an older engineer from the company that Barry had worked with before and always liked. It was a much better fit now that real work needed to be done.

Harrison would likely get a new job eventually, once the scandal died down, though Barry tried not to think about it. Sometimes, he'd catch himself wondering what Harrison was up to, if he was okay, if coming clean had been the right thing, but then Barry would look at Len, at his apartment, at the life he'd built here and remember why he'd needed to put Harrison behind him in the first place. He deserved to be happy and _here_ was where he found it.

Merlin hadn't shown his face since, not in any circles that mattered. Life moved on, and Barry moved forward, for once feeling safe and excited for what came next, even amid the unexpected.

"What do you mean _hack_ the nanomachines?" Barry said, busying himself in the kitchen, while Len continued organizing what was laid out on the counter.

"I mean, if this project with Smoak and Palmer revolves around chip technology and nanomachines for gene therapy…what happens if someone _hacks_ the program? Could they manipulate the amount of medication being given or the direction the gene therapy takes? Cause irreparable damage maybe? Even make someone devolve into a monkey?"

Barry snorted. "Okay, _King Koopa_. Now you're just thinking like a supervillain. Although…" the inner working of Barry's mind buzzed with calculations and probability, "I should probably make sure that's not possible."

Now it was Len who laughed, obviously having only meant to tease Barry, but it got him thinking. There was always more to consider, more work to be done, and Len managed to inspire Barry and lead him down paths he never expected. Challenging each other, that's how a relationship was supposed to work. Bringing out the best in each other. It amazed Barry sometimes that he'd never realized that until he had it.

Everything was set out now for their families to arrive. Dinner was ready and waiting, the apartment spotless, any items of Len's that had matriculated into Barry's home not hidden but displayed proudly. Len still had his own apartment, they weren't living together _yet_ , they just rarely spent nights apart. If they managed to avoid disaster tonight—even if they didn't—Barry planned to ask Len to move in with him over breakfast tomorrow.

While Len finished setting out the wine and beer glasses for some initial drinks to break the tension, Barry walked across the apartment to turn on some background music. The first song that started was Ella Fitzgerald singing "Someone to Watch Over Me"—just like their first night together.

Barry smiled, eyes closing as he hummed along and swayed in place. A few seconds later, when fingers alighted on his wrist from behind, tentative at first but surer in its grip when Barry didn't flinch or pull away, the world seemed to have come full circle as Barry was spun about and pulled into Len's body for a dance.

"Hey—" he started to protest.

" _I_ am wearing shoes. _You_ are not. Therefore, at the moment, _I_ am taller," Len said, continuing to lead Barry with an arm around his waist. "Besides, this way I can finally prove to you that I am more than two left feet."

A giggle left Barry as he gave in, well trained in how to be the partner that followed, but with Len, he could be both, he could be _everything_ , including himself.

The steps didn't matter before long, just the touch of Len's hand guiding him, their fingers clasped and held between them, and Barry's head soon falling forward to rest on Len's shoulder. Again, he hummed and eventually began to sing along with the song under his breath.

"You have a lovely voice you know."

"Really? I was always too shy to sing in front of people."

"Given your new lease on life, I'd say that calls for karaoke this weekend."

"Oh no!" Barry pulled his head up with a laugh. "Don't tell Cisco that. He'll _insist_. But it would probably be fun. Gotta keep everyone entertained while they're here, right?"

Len led Barry across the floor, faster and faster into a twirl, where he spun Barry outward and back in against him for a low dip that made Barry giggle that much harder.

"I cave," Barry said. "You are much better at this when you know the steps."

"See? But I don't mind it the other way." Len proceeded into a slower sway again. "You'll just have to teach me more."

That sounded wonderful. Every hour, every minute with Len was wonderful. "Just remember, no matter what Joe says once they get here, if he tries to do the whole passive-aggressive 'you're not good enough for my son' bit, he's just like that, he means well, and he will not sway my opinion."

Nothing but confidence shone through on Len's face. "I'm not worried. He's going to love me. My age notwithstanding, I am not Harrison, and all he'll need to see to understand that is how happy you are and how much I love you. You are happy, aren't you, Barry?" He brushed a stray hair from Barry's forehead.

"More than I've ever been," Barry leaned into the caress. "Because I love you too."

They kissed, softly, intimately, and swayed a while longer, well into the next song, when Len began to sing this time to Nina Simone's "Feeling Good." He had a lovely voice too.

Barry thought to himself like he had the night Harrison first breezed into his life again by showing up at Palmer Tech that he'd never really loved Harry because he hadn't known what love felt like until now.

A chime of Len's phone reminded them that there wasn't much time before company would arrive. They separated but kissed once more before Len moved to retrieve his phone from the kitchen counter.

He snorted when he read the message. "Apparently, Lisa ran into your family on the metro. She recognized Iris. They've been getting to know each other at _Impulse_ , you know."

"I know," Barry crossed the room to join him, "I kind of love that. Did she say anything else?"

Len turned the phone toward Barry so he could read the end of the message.

 _Why didn't you tell me Barry had a hot single friend?_

Barry laughed out loud before his jaw dropped as that registered. "Wait…is she talking about _Cisco_?"

"This should be fun," Len chuckled. "Ready?"

It was such a simple question for such a major turning point, but Barry had an equally simple answer. "Yes. Some things you can't predict. But when that happens—"

"You just have to meet every surprise like you had a plan all along," Len finished, reaching for Barry's fingers to draw them up to his mouth and plant a kiss across his knuckles.

Barry smiled at how well Len knew him, how well he listened, how well he fit into this wonderful mess of a life they shared. "Exactly," he said, because with Len he'd been able to throw away the plan entirely, and he was happier because of it.

A few minutes later, just like their first night together, the next stage in their lives began with a knock at the door.

* * *

THE END


End file.
